Beyond the Veil
by The Darkness Factor
Summary: Tearing the veil has some unexpected consequences for both Merlin and Morgana.  Sort of canon until 4x06.
1. Chapter 1: In Media Res

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin! Except for Jo. She's mine, MINE!

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><p>Merlin had had better days.<p>

First of all, he was chained to the ceiling of Morgana's hovel. Secondly, said witch was staring at him with a smile that would scare children out of their wits (which meant that he was royally screwed- quite literally considering that her last name was 'Pendragon'). And thirdly, Nimueh was choking on laughter next to him. He didn't dare to look at her, considering that he had no desire to let Morgana know that he could see the deceased sorceress.

"Look at her!" sniggered Nimueh, smirking at the only living witch in the room. "Clueless as ever." Merlin noticed that Morgana's eyes narrowed slightly at that moment, but attributed it to coincidence. He was the only one who could really see the dead, after all.

On his other side, Lancelot released a pent up breath of frustration. "Nimueh, please," he muttered, exasperated. "This is bad enough without your comments."

"Oh come on," Nimueh scoffed. "Honestly, how can she not see it? I knew at once."

"Yeah," came Will's bored tone from behind him. "'Cept you were, what? Ninety something years old when you died? You had experience. Morgana doesn't."

Merlin was really wishing that they would shut up, but as usual the three (who always followed him around with more persistence than he did Arthur) continued on, oblivious to the discomfort on his face. Thankfully he didn't have to conceal it; he had more than enough justification for being uncomfortable with the situation, considering that Morgana was sending him a silent threat with her eyes. She had some dead visitors of her own: Uther (he grimaced; the man was sulking in a corner and didn't look ready to come out any time soon) and a girl with wild dirty blond hair who was currently reclining on one of Morgana's chairs, a bored expression on her face as she watched the proceedings.

"Please don't start railing about age, Nimueh," pleaded Lancelot. Merlin silently agreed; he'd heard the age rant from her numerous times already, and wanted to be spared from hearing it again. Nimueh huffed, affronted, but remained silent. At that moment, Morgana chose to speak.

"You know, there's one thing I don't understand about you, Merlin." As she said this, she moved around the room, grabbing a cloth and dousing it in a bucket of water, before approaching him and beginning (to his surprise) dabbing his wound with it. He gawked down at her, wondering if he was seeing things. "You're Arthur's servant, nothing more... yet time and again you've proved yourself willing to lay down your life for him."

"That's because he's-"

"Quiet, Nimueh!" said Lancelot, looking panicked, while Will shouted, "Shut up!"

Morgana's hand jerked slightly, making Merlin wince as her nails dug into the raw injury. Nimueh, meanwhile, sauntered over to Uther, a full blown sneer on her face. Merlin ignored this, choosing to focus on the real threat from the witch in front of him. Hoarsely, he croaked, "What're you doing?"

She scoffed. "What, you've never seen Gaius clean a wound before?"

"No," he replied, "I know what you're doing, I just want to know _why."_

In a sudden motion, she grasped his chin, forcing him to look at her. Quietly, she snarled, "I believe I asked you a question first." Her hand was cold as her voice.

(In the background, Nimueh was loudly taunting Uther; he didn't acknowledge her in the slightest.)

"I'd think that that one was obvious," drawled Will. He paused dramatically while Lancelot rolled his eyes. "Because it's _Merlin!"_

Merlin wasn't sure what to make of that comment, so he answered it as though he hadn't heard anything.

"I don't expect you to understand, Morgana. You have no sense of duty, no sense of _loyalty..."_

She paused. "You're wrong." Nimueh turned around and made a face at her that looked hilarious on the sorceress, and despite his situation Merlin found himself struggling not to laugh. "Don't think I don't understand loyalty just because I've got no one left to be loyal to."

This made Uther jerk slightly. He turned to her, eyes wide. "Morgana..."

Morgana's eyebrow twitched, and before Merlin really knew what was happening she had whirled around. _"Shut up!" _she screamed at him. His mouth dropped open as he realized that he wasn't the only one, that _she could see them too. _Once again, the two of them had something in common, and once again he could only pray she wouldn't notice.

"Oh," said Nimueh, blinking. She glanced over a Lancelot. "Is that why you told me to stop talking?"

"Seems that all sorceresses have intelligence problems," drawled the blond girl, speaking up for the first time. She jerked her head in the direction of Uther. "Want me to beat some sense into him?"

Morgana, who only just seemed to realize that she looked like she was insane, ignored the question, though Merlin could see that she was itching to say yes. It made him curious as to who the girl was, who could speak so casually to the witch without needing to fear her wrath. Her presence seemed to be tolerable to Morgana, at the very least. Perhaps the young woman was simply bored, which had been Nimueh's justification for haunting him.

She laid a hand on his wound, breathing in deeply. _"Ic de durhhaele dinu licsar mid dam sundorcraeft daere ealdan ae. Drycraeft durhhaele dina wunda."_

"Why'd she do that?" pondered Will aloud. "He could just do it himself."

At those words, every spirit aside from Uther froze, hoping against hope that Morgana hadn't picked up on the meaning of the statement. However, despite never realizing Merlin's magic, she was no fool. Her green eyes narrowed down to slits, and she looked past him at Will, who gulped.

"And just _what,"_ she hissed lowly, "Is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing!"

Her eyes slowly slid back to become fixed on his own again, this time with a calculating look that screamed danger."Merlin," came her low, dangerous voice, as she stepped forward until she was inches away from him. He fidgeted, wishing he could back away. "Is there something I should know?"

"I'm sure he thinks it's something you shouldn't know," sneered Nimueh. Merlin nearly groaned aloud. Just now, Nimueh was choosing the perfect moment to get her revenge for her death. That, he now realized, was her real reason for following him around so readily since the veil was torn. "He's only a boy who's destined to become the most powerful warlock Albion has ever seen- oops," she added, her wicked gaze sliding over to meet his, relishing in the betrayal there. "Did I say that out loud?"

Figuring that the jig was up, Merlin allowed his power to surge through him, burning through his eyes as the manacles holding him released him with a click. Morgana seemed to stop breathing, and the fury he had been expecting in her eyes didn't appear. Instead, he saw unadulterated terror there, and before he knew it she was stumbling backwards, nearly tripping over a stray pot.

"Thanks Nimueh," he said dryly. "Because I really needed Morgana to figure that out."

"You probably could've headed off her suspicions if you hadn't done magic just now," replied the ancient sorceress cheerfully. "She doesn't seem to think very highly of you, after all."

"Emrys!" choked out Morgana, still looking shell shocked. "No- no it can't... no..."

Deciding to project confidence, Merlin took a step forward, noticing that she stepped back as he did so. Almost all of the spirits in the room (minus Uther) suddenly decided that they were needed elsewhere, slipping out the door. Lancelot muttered, "Good luck," to him as he passed, while Will ran out looking as though he wanted to die again.

"Yes," he replied calmly. "I am Emrys, Morgana. The warlock spoken in the druids' prophecies as the one who will help bring magic back to the land." She was still shaking her head, shutting her eyes as though she could shut out his presence in her hovel. "The one who's thwarted all of your plans thus far. I knew that Agravaine had heard the name from you- the question is, where did you hear it from?"

"Cailleach," gasped the woman. He blinked; he hadn't been expecting that. The gatekeeper had spoken to her as well? "Doom..." Suddenly she straightened, molten gold replacing the pale green. _"No!"_

The next thing he knew, he was crumpled on the ground against the wall. Morgana summoned her dagger to her hand, striding over to him purposefully, looking almost crazed. "You aren't going to kill me. I won't let you!"

He extended his own power to the weapon, causing it to fly out of her hand into the fire. She froze once again, while he slowly picked himself up off the floor, wincing as he did so. Just what had the Cailleach told her that made her panic so much? He frowned slightly; the gatekeeper hadn't really spoken to him. She had only called out his prophetic name, and then later told him that it was not his destiny to die on the Isle of the Blessed- just before Lancelot passed through the veil.

Except that the consequences had been more than he expected. Now he was stuck being able to see the dead... and apparently, Morgana was too.

For a moment, the two of them stared at one another, breathing heavily, neither one yielding. Merlin had to remind himself not to get lost in her gaze, which stared at him imploringly, reminding him of the way she had once looked at him, when she was lost and alone. A twinge of sadness went through him, accompanied by regret.

The vision was lost as Morgana's formerly beautiful face twisted with rage. "All this time!" she shouted, her magic rearing and throwing a pot at him. He ducked, too accustomed to hiding himself to use his own. "All this time, you had magic. You could have helped me, could have taught me to control it, but no! No, you had to be selfish and use it for yourself. And then you poison me- why? If we were the same, why?"

Her had been decreasing in volume during her rant, and each item she magically threw at him had less bite, until the last question was no more than a whisper. Merlin had known just how personally she would take when his magic was revealed, but he hadn't expected this reaction. The screaming, yes, the throwing things at him, yes... but not the despondence that she currently possessed.

She didn't look up, but spoke again.

"Go on then, Emrys," she breathed, making him wince at the way she said his other name. "What are you waiting for?"

He jerked as though she had slapped him, knowing that his jaw had hit the floor. Morgana giving up? The two words used in conjunction weren't part of her vocabulary.

Ignoring the logical part of him, which said that what he was about to do was a very bad idea, he knelt down in front of her and hesitantly took her hands in his, gripping them tight enough that she was unable to pull away when she tried.

"I think you know that I can't," said Merlin just as quietly. "Even if I wanted to."

A bitter smirk appeared. "And common sense tells me that I'd be a fool to heal you, but I did anyway." Pause. He knew what she was waiting for.

"I was afraid Morgana," he began, noting the way her cheeks flushed in anger as he said this, but continuing before she could say anything. "Everyday I waited for Uther to somehow find out about me- or for Arthur to, and reject me for it. I've had this power all my life, and went for years without knowing how or why. When I was younger, my mother was terrified that I would give myself away. I was making objects fly left and right. By some miracle, only Will found out, but ever since I was born I've had to hide myself. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone- not even you."

"You think I wasn't scared?"

"I know, Morgana," he insisted; he could see that she didn't believe him. The silence dragged out for what seemed like hours, with neither of them moving. He was tense, waiting for her to summon the dagger again and plunge it through his heart, while she waited for him to speak a spell that would end her life in a split second. In that time, neither of them noticed the blond girl poke her head through (yes, through) the door and breathe a sigh of relief, before leaving again.

"I thought I was the only one who could see them," said Morgana at last, making eye contact with him. "I thought I was out of my mind. But... strangely, it's kept me sane. Jo, she's been something of an anchor for me. Mocks me at every turn, but it's worth it."

"Who's Jo?" he prompted gently.

She didn't answer at first. "I knew her when she was much older than me. She worked in the kitchens. She never really talked to other people much, but I badgered her a lot. She started teaching me how to wield a dagger, until Uther found out and put her in the stocks for it. She wouldn't stand for that, so she left. I... she died soon after."

There was a part of the story that she wasn't telling him, but Merlin wasn't going to push her.

"I see that Lancelot's been following you, as well as Nimueh," remarked Morgana. "Morgause never did know who killed her... was it you?"

The matter of fact way in which she said that made him pull away abruptly again, looking away. There was no abhorrence in her eyes at the possibility- there was actually some fascination. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing. "Yes. I used her life to bring back Gaius."

A sharp intake of breath followed these words.

"You can-"

"-mirror life and death." She shrunk from him slightly at the darkness on his face when he faced her again. "Are you afraid?"

Her tone became sharp once more as she stood up, suddenly the witch again. "Don't be a fool," she muttered. "You're supposed to be my destiny and my doom. How do you think I feel?"

His eyebrows shot up, and he too rose to his feet. "Is that what she told you?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "'The one called Emrys will walk in your shadow. He is your destiny, and he is your doom.' Her exact words. So, I'm still waiting. But-" She frowned suddenly, looking confused, before understanding dawned on her face. "That old man- the one who took the blame for Gwen- that was _you?"_

"Not one of my better days," mumbled Merlin- just like today.

"And... all those times, when Camelot somehow managed to get out of these impossible situations..." She began pacing back and forth. Merlin took a moment to reflect on the strangeness of the situation- that he and Morgana, of all people, were having a civilized conversation. "How didn't I see it before?"

"There are advantages to being thought of as an idiot," said Merlin lightly.

"Obviously you're not," muttered Morgana.

"Thanks."

"Unless it was you who released the Great Dragon," she spoke up suddenly. "In which case I revoke my earlier statement. What were you thinking? Oh, wait- you weren't."

"You know for some reason it's only when you're mocking me that I see the similarities between you and your half brother."

She didn't respond to that, though it made Uther glance in their direction. There was another long silence, in which Morgana's pacing slowed somewhat.

"I didn't know, you know," she said softly, glancing at him. "What Morgause was planning, when she was attacking with the knights of Medhir. If you had told me..." She seemed to hesitate for a moment, before plowing on with a determined air. "But there's no point in dwelling on it, is there? What's done is done. I suppose I should be thanking you, anyway."

He blinked. "For what?"

She smiled, and he almost winced openly at the cruelty that twisted her mouth. "I may have... helped, somewhat, but it was you who killed Uther in the end."

He didn't gift that statement with a response.

Still with the smile on her face, she asked, "So, how did you end up with those three following you around?" Her face twisted in disgust. "Uther came here a day after he died. He won't leave... and Jo's been here from the beginning."

"It's a bit of a long story."

"I've got time," said Morgana, sitting down in one of her chairs and squirming in a rather undignified (adorable- no Merlin, she's your enemy) fashion to get comfortable. Resigning himself to the task of speaking possibly for hours, Merlin sighed and sat down across from her, still wondering at her being somewhat hospitable.

"Well, I guess it started when you tore the veil..."

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><p>Lancelot didn't think he'd ever seen a stranger crew.<p>

He'd gradually grown used to Nimueh and Will, since they also stubbornly followed Merlin around as he did (Nimueh did so somewhat obsessively), but the blond woman was something else. Her sarcastic, verbal sparring had been ongoing with the sorceress for some time after they'd left the hovel to give Merlin and Morgana some privacy. Will looked like he was rather enjoying the show.

"So you aren't stalking him?"

"I'm observing him."

"That's stalking. It's creepy. Get a life, no pun intended."

Nimueh sneered. "Oh, and just how long have you bee following Morgana Pendragon around?"

Jo reclined against a tree root. "At least I have the decency to not stare at her while she's sleeping."

"I do not-"

"Yeah, you do," Will interrupted. "It's creepy. She's right."

Nimueh shot him a dirty look before resuming her glaring at Jo, but seemed unable to find anything else to say. Jo couldn't have looked more bored, in Lancelot's opinion.

"So," drawled the blond woman. "How did you three end up chasing him?"

"I wasn't about to leave him alone," muttered Nimueh. "Not if it meant haunting him for the rest of his days."

"Creeepyyyyy," sang Will.

Lancelot sighed. "You might as well start, Nimueh. This could take awhile."

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><p>And once again, my insanity rears its ugly head. Hooray for being sidetracked! Yet again. Seriously, this is like my sixth story. Have I finished any of the other ones? Not even close. Oh well. I write what I want!<p>

You're probably all thinking "Uh...". Want to know why I wrote this? Because after rewatching series one, I decided that I liked Nimueh. Then I decided that writing dead/harmless/insane Nimueh would be fun. Seriously, I think once you get past her evilness, you'd find that she's batshit crazy. And remembering what The Darkest Hour was all about... heehee.

So yes, Merlin and Morgana can now see dead people. They don't like it very much. Is this crack? I'd like to think that it isn't, but I suppose, if you wanted to interpret it that way... yeah. Does this mean that it will be M/M romance? Hopefully I'll get there eventually, but it'll be veeerrryyy slooooow. Because their relationship is something I believe would take time.

As for other deceased characters, I have a few ideas on how to incorporate them into the plot. For now, though, the main ones are Nimueh, Will, Lancelot, and Jo. Please don't kill me for using an OC... I can't get her out of my head! You're welcome to give me suggestions, if you want. I'll let you know if I've thought about it or not.

There will be an indeterminable number of chapters that catch the story up to the present time, generally following the first five episodes of Series 4 (with both major and minor twists). It's like the Odyssey! (not.)

Next time: The veil is torn! DUN DUN DUN! Oh, and Merlin gets the living (HA!) crap scared out of him by Nimueh.

Review, please! Love you all!


	2. Chapter 2: Allusion

"Your sister was right when she said everything would change," said the Cailleach.

"What do you mean? Who is Emrys?"

The gatekeeper ignored the question. "You have disturbed the fabric of nature itself, Morgana Pendragon. Now, you must live with it for the rest of your life."

Disturbed, and deeply confused, Morgana stared at the aged woman before her, not a little fearful. Pushing herself up from her vulnerable position on the ground, she turned and fled, not daring to look behind her.

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><p>Merlin had rarely seen a girl that looked more terrified. Her voice shook with a sob as she spoke, describing the horrors that she had experienced at her village. The words sent a chill through him, and the ominous feeling that had hung over him since seeing the Cailleach only increased at her explanation of what had terrorized her.<p>

"They had no faces."

The words were barely a whisper, but the silence that followed the statement was a dead weight. Merlin found himself almost unable to breathe, while Arthur's frown (which had become very common since Uther had taken ill) deepened, his brow furrowing in thought. The warlock glanced at the king, knowing that Arthur would be having doubts about whether or not the things that attacked the village were really as horrible as the young woman claimed.

"Gaius," the regent said at last, "What do you make of this?"

Merlin's eyes shifted over to his mentor, noting the more-grim-than-usual look on his face. His heart sank; if Gaius said that the report boded ill, then they were all in stuck in the mud.

"From her description, sire," replied Gaius, taking a few slow steps further, "I believe the creature to be a Dorocha." He paused, noticing that no one in the room seemed to recognize the term. Merlin, like everyone else, was clueless as to what his mentor was talking about, but he found out a moment later.

"They are creatures of the dead- spirits."

If the silence that fell on them before had been heavy, it was nothing to the pregnant one that followed Gaius' proclamation. Merlin felt his gut twist in apprehension, while many of the knights looked visibly disturbed by the news. Arthur, for his part, managed to keep his expression composed, staring down at his feet and visibly thinking hard.

At long last, the prince regent announced, "I will take a group of knights and investigate this village to see if there is any truth to this." To the girl, he added more gently, "You'll be safe here in Camelot. Gaius, for all our sakes, I hope that you're wrong."

Merlin glanced at the physician, wincing at the hard look on his face.

"So do I, sire."

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><p>"What does this all mean, Gaius?" asked Merlin once they arrived back at the physician's chambers.<p>

"There's been a tear in the veil, which separates the Underworld from the living one."

"Morgana?"

"I suspect so," replied Gaius, his jumpy eyebrow shooting up seemingly erratically. "She was traveling in the direction of the Isle of the Blessed when the report of her came in. Merlin, you need to be careful." The young warlock didn't think he had ever heard Gaius sound so grave. "The Dorocha are unlike anything we have faced before."

"Is there a way to fight them?"

"Not that I'm aware."

Merlin let the conversation die out, before informing Gaius that he was intending to get an early night so that he (hopefully) wouldn't be late for his Royal Pratness the next morning, when they were to set out for the seemingly massacred village. He found himself instinctively lightning the candles in the room with his magic, not at all eager to try and sleep in the dark, as he usually did.

He was just digging out his magic book from the floorboard when a strange noise came from behind him. Pausing with the book in his grip, he glanced in the direction of it, and yelled out in shock. The book fell from his hands with a heavy thud as he whirled, his eyes flashing gold and a solid wall of power slamming into the cupboard next to the door.

He blinked. A moment later, said door flew open and Gaius appeared, alarmed.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What's wrong?"

Merlin could only shake his head, speechless, and stare at the destroyed furniture. He could feel Gaius' concerned gaze on him but ignored it, waiting for what he had seen to reappear and for the physician to become just as alarmed as he had been. But nothing happened; nothing stirred, and the room seemed as inconspicuous as ever. Shaking his head again, he convinced himself that the stress of the torn veil was merely setting him on edge.

"It's nothing," he told his guardian flatly. Gaius' eyebrow jumped, a clear indication of disbelief, but he only nodded once and backed out of the room, sensing that Merlin wanted to forget the matter.

In his paranoia, he double-checked the candles to make sure they were lit. He slowly climbed onto the bed, drawing his knees up and resting the book on them. He couldn't help having his eyes lift up every now and then to check that he was completely alone. It was merely his overactive imagination playing tricks on him. It had to be.

Because for a moment, he thought he saw Nimueh, the wicked grin that haunted him in his nightmares plastered over her face.

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><p>Morgana was not expecting guests. But nevertheless, she had one.<p>

Her heart had been sent racing when she beheld the figure sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, staring moodily into the distance. A blond head that she had seen chopped off long ago turned towards her, giving her a look that said, "Finally!" Still, she almost backed out of the door, wondering if she was going bonkers, or if this was some sort of trick by the so-called Emrys that the Cailleach had mentioned.

"You look like a bloody fish," Jo commented frankly. She gestured to her surroundings before continuing. "Nice place you've got here. Not exactly what you're used to, is it?"

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" It came out harsher than she meant it, but that was hardly her fault.

A bark of bitter laughter answered her. "I _am _dead. Have the dreams made you addled?"

"What am I supposed to think?" snapped Morgana, still standing rigidly in the doorway. "If you're dead, then I should not be talking to you right now."

"No," mused Jo, tapping her chin with her forefinger. "I suppose you shouldn't. But you are." Pause. "And it is me. Most of us aren't exactly lucky enough to move on to Avalon. We tend to wander Albion, often watching people we were attached to when alive."

"That's what a hallucination would say too," Morgana muttered mulishly. "And why me?"

"You're the only one still alive. You knew that. I've seen every one of your spectacular failures, too. I especially liked the one where you tried to get Guinevere killed. Never knew you had it in you."

Morgana's fists clenched and un-clenched in her fury, noting that Jo's brand of criticism was just as biting as ever. She scowled furiously, turning away from her uninvited guest to take stock of the condition of her "home". All of the herbs and strange tools that she had acquired while working with Morgause were neatly organized, and nothing had been moved. This only reaffirmed her belief that Jo was an illusion of some sort, and she was almost convinced that she would turn around to see that the blond woman was gone. Yet when she actually did, she found that Jo had moved to one of her chairs.

"You tore the veil," Jo said unexpectedly- sharply.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that an equivalent to setting you free?"

"Wrong. 'Free' is the expression for the way I am now. What you did- whenever it's nightfall, we can manifest in the world of the living, but we become monsters- shadows of ourselves- in the process. I have no intention of trying to manifest, but you can bet that there are plenty who want to make contact with their relatives again." She smiled. "They don't even realize that anything they try to say comes out as screams. Anything they touch freezes. They move to embrace a relative- well, they just make that relative join them. Those of us who are weaker are actually _forced_ to manifest. So, basically, you really just screwed us over. Whatever makes the great Morgana Pendragon happy."

Morgana opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again. Jo was staring at her, brown eyes boring into hers. Seeing that she wasn't going to get a response, she stood.

"I'll come back some other time," she said lazily, brushing past Morgana on her way to the door. "Good night. Don't let the Dorocha bite."

* * *

><p>Merlin and the others dismounted, finding the village deserted. There was a certain chill in the air that Merlin was sure hadn't been there before their arrival, but Arthur and the knights didn't appear to notice anything wrong. Lancelot's eyes flickered over to him, and Merlin could tell by the way his confidant frowned that he had seen the disquiet on the warlock's face.<p>

Leon moved over to one of the houses, pushing the door open slowly. A sharp intake of breath followed this action, which soon had the other knights crowding behind him to get a glimpse of what lay within. Merlin had a sickening feeling that he already knew, and resolved not to join them.

"They're completely frozen over," breathed Elyan, his eyes going wide. Gwaine nodded wordlessly in agreement, before breaking the silence with a loud crunch as he bit into an apple that he'd packed for the trip, causing all eyes to turn in his direction.

Not looking the slightest bit guilty, he swallowed quickly and whispered, "Sorry."

Arthur rolled his eyes before ordering them to spread out and check the other homes. Lancelot wordlessly assigned himself to Merlin's side, and together they opened the doors to several more huts, grimacing at the sight of the corpses that greeted them. Each villager had an expression of stark terror on their faces, their eyes wide and fearful in death.

"The sun is setting," murmured Lancelot.

Merlin glanced at the west, confirming what the knight said. He gave an involuntary shudder, which Lancelot mimicked as the sense of foreboding washed over the both of them.

They ended up clearing a couple bodies out of one of the huts in order to set up a shelter for the night, and soon had a roaring fire in the fireplace. Torches were passed out, while Arthur ordered several of the knights to keep watch while the rest slept. Merlin found himself wandering out again, despite the magnetic pull that the fire seemed to have on him, a few minutes after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as a shrieking cry could be heard in the distance. Checking his surroundings to make sure he was alone, he held up his hand, palm up, and whispered, _"Leoht."_

The light that appeared was a great comfort to him as another scream resounded through the area- this time much closer than before. His breath hitched as he beheld the specter-like _thing_ speeding towards him, the piercing sound resonating horribly in his eardrums. The light he held flickered once, then died.

Panic gripped him, and he faced the Dorocha. _"Fleoh nu on moras!"_

Nothing happened.

He repeated the spell, nearly yelling with desperation, but a deep cold seemed to constrict his magic, rendering it useless, rendering _him _useless, and it was only feet away-

A flash of orange. Lancelot was shoving him out of the way, thrusting his torch in front of him to ward off the Dorocha. Almost at once, Merlin was able to breathe again, as he felt the choking grip on him vanish. The knight turned towards him, his face full of concern. No one else had noticed exactly what took place.

"What happened?" he asked, his tone low.

Try as he might, Merlin could not force the tremor from his voice. "My magic... my magic is useless against them."

Lancelot accompanied him back inside, where the fire was leaping cheerfully, a welcome sight for the shaken Merlin. He was left alone, suspecting that the rest of the knights were all out, unable to sleep themselves. He doubted he would be getting any sleep, either, and instead contented himself with staring into the fire, unable to tear his gaze away from the only source of light.

"So tell me," came a quiet murmur by his ear. "How does it feel to be helpless?"

His reaction wasn't quite as bad as it had been back in Camelot; his magic didn't lash out and blow the entire house apart. He did, however, fall off of his seat, getting the wind knocked out of him in the process. There she was again- Nimueh, standing there with the same dark grin on her face. She was wearing the same dress that he had seen her in on the Isle of the Blessed, and her blue eyes seemed to pierce his own.

Merlin shut his eyes, praying to the spirits that he was seeing things. Considering that the spirits were now just screaming wraiths, though, that might not have been the best course of action. When he opened them again, she was still there, this time with her arms folded and almost pouting.

"You didn't miss me?"

He shook his head violently. "No. No, you're not really here, you're dead, I..."

"...killed me." She sighed somewhat impatiently. "You're the one who did it. You shouldn't have any trouble saying it." She paused, scrutinizing him while Merlin avoided her gaze. "Unless you feel guilty, of course?"

Disregarding that, he decided to answer her earlier question. "It feels like I'm suffocating. Like I'm trapped in ice but can still think."

With a dramatic sigh, she plopped down next to him. "So, now you know how I felt when you killed me. In that one instant just before I... exploded... that was the feeling I had. I'm glad that you know it now."

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, trying not so subtly to shift away from her. "'Cause you're not real."

"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin," sighed Nimueh, carefully placing a hand on- or not on- or whatever it was- his shoulder, making him feel like someone just poured ice water over his head. "I've been here this whole time. You just haven't been able to see me."

It didn't make him feel any better.

* * *

><p>Despair incarnate.<p>

That was what he was. Would it never end? Would the agony of helplessness never leave him again? He was blind, he was deaf- deaf to all but his own screams in his ears. He crashed into multitudes of objects, catching sight of what he thought could be another person, but they were always beyond his reach. Exhausted, but pressing on inexorably, he moved, longing only for a warm embrace.

It wasn't to be.

Where was his mother? His father? His best friend? All the people he had known- and lost- over the years of his life? Why had the witch seen fit to do this to him- to all who were weakened, like him? The warmth of the living was just inches away, yet when he actively sought it, it was as though he simply snuffed out the candle.

_Help me. Help me. Helpme. Helpmehelpmehelpme..._

* * *

><p>Jo watched the ensuing, hopeless fight with a resigned air. She sat in the brightly lit throne room, next to an old friend of hers who she became fond of after death. The knights of Camelot ran amok, keeping the fires going and fending off the lesser spirits, who tried to take them for their own. Beside her, Ygraine observed the proceedings with a look of sickened concern on her beautiful face.<p>

"It saddens me," she said softly, "To see innocent souls reduced to this."

Jo nodded wordlessly in agreement, unable to find anything to say in response to the former queen's words. It didn't sadden her; she was almost certain that grief was an emotion that she was incapable of feeling. Wrath was prevalent among her feelings, mainly for a certain witch living in the forest. She understood exactly why Morgana could see her: it was her punishment for meddling with the natural order- to be forever haunted by the consequences, quite literally.

Ygraine stood restlessly, walking over to one of those struck down by the Dorocha. She gently whispered some soft words for the man, whose soul had not quite left him yet, but was on the brink of doing so. With a sigh, she sat beside him, barely acknowledging Jo joining her.

"Have you visited Uther today?" An edge came into her voice as she said this, and she ignored the admonishing look that Ygraine sent her. She held no particular hatred for the king, but she cared nothing for him. She looked at him and saw only a broken man- a weak man. He had always been weak at heart, she knew.

"I did earlier. Guinevere was looking after him." A large smile broke out on her features, the one sight of joy among the tired and/or horrified faces in the room. "She's an absolute wonder, that girl. I should hope that my son proposes to her soon."

"He has other problems," muttered Jo.

"That's exactly why he should," Ygraine insisted. "She is already one of the most important pillars holding him up. All he needs to do is make it public. Besides," and here her voice took on a mischievous tone, "I would be honored if she bore my grandchildren."

"And if she needs to resort to your method?" Jo asked, aware of the thoughtlessness of the question, but finding it beyond herself to care.

Ygraine winced. "We can only pray that it doesn't come to that. Did you...?"

"This morning. She was surprised to see me, and mostly denied what I had to say." Jo paused. "You should hate her. I don't understand your concern."

"How could I hate a child for the sins of their parents?"

"And yet you don't hate Uther either."

Ygraine smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Perhaps I am incapable of hatred. I was not trained to hate from a young age."

"You should hate something," Jo insisted, still not quite understanding. She never had been able to comprehend the tireless compassion that Ygraine carried.

"If I had to hate anything, it would be fate itself," said Ygraine. "For laying such a heavy burden upon my son's shoulders. For pushing Morgana down such a dark path. For leading my husband to Vivienne. But I cannot hate the people themselves."

Once again, Jo struggled to say something, and after a few moments gave up trying. There were other, stronger spirits here, but they didn't interact with one another as Ygraine and herself did.

"When he joins you- and it will be soon," added Jo, "Will you stay with him?"

Ygraine's hand went to the ring finger of her other hand, where a beautiful gemstone sat, glinting in the firelight. She let out her breath in a soft sigh.

"How could I not?"

"And if he does not stay with you? We both know where he'll go."

"Then I will wait for him," declared Ygraine. "Forever, if I must."

* * *

><p>Merlin was having trouble.<p>

Arthur was giving directions as they prepared to depart from the village, and Merlin was almost in pain from keeping the laugh out of his face. He had a feeling that he looked like he was constipated, because Nimueh was standing right next to Arthur, silently mimicking his speech and movements. The sight was funnier than it should have been- she probably _wanted _to embarrass him, and briefly sent him a disappointed look when he managed (barely) to keep a straight expression.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Lancelot asked him for what seemed to be the millionth time. He only nodded in reply, still coming to terms with the fact that he was seeing spirits- a multitude of them, most of them the recently dead, wandering about the village and conversing with one another familiarly as though they were still alive. Many sent suspicious looks in the direction of the sorceress, but none of the living noticed apart from him.

Nimueh sauntered over as Lancelot moved away to prepare his horse, huffing in exasperation.

"Your sense of humor needs improvement."

"Why are you following me, again?" Merlin muttered as quietly as possible, glancing around discreetly in the hopes that no one would take any notice. It was a question that had been on his mind since his ability 'solidified' (as Nimueh called it) the previous night.

"I'm bored," she said breezily, as though that explained everything. "There's nothing to do in the afterlife. I no longer have magic. Your life is _far_ more entertaining."

Nimueh had explained that she suspected it was his immense power levels that allowed him to see the dead, now that the veil had been torn and produced instability between the two worlds. Whether or not he would still be capable of it after it was sealed was another question entirely, one that either she didn't know or refused to divulge.

"Move out," called Arthur, once they were all on their horses. Nimueh seemed to glide alongside him, as though the ground beneath her feet was obsolete. She stared at the prince, before commenting.

"He really is rather good looking, isn't he? I'm starting to wonder why I wanted to kill him."

If he hadn't been occupied by the reins, Merlin would have massaged his temples.

* * *

><p>Morgana was being followed.<p>

All she wanted was to collect some herbs, but there was no doubt in her mind that someone was dogging her steps. Her mind fearfully turned to Emrys, and fear had always made her irrational. Before she really thought about what she was doing, she whipped around, drawing her dagger and glaring at the area behind her.

"Show yourself!"

A slim figure emerged, and she felt her face whiten.

"...sister?"

* * *

><p>And... that's all for now folks! Don't worry, more is on its way. I just don't want my chapters to be too long- then I'll start boring you!<p>

Reason for the title(s): 'Allusion' is a reference to an outside source... or something like that. Correct me if I'm wrong. The reason I called it this is because the scenario (the whole veil thing, the dead killing people, blah blah blah) is VERY reminiscent of season 2 of Legend of the Seeker. By the way, the creation of Jo was partially inspired by Cara- who is the epitome of leather-wearing badassness. No, Jo will not be wearing leather. Ever. Then there's also the fact that the Dorocha are practically dementors. As for 'In Media Res', that simply means in the middle- which is where the story begins.

Reason for the writing style: At first, I was going to rewatch the episode and model most of the conversations off of it, but then I decided that I would fill the gaps in my memory myself. I would feel like a robot if I just copied the episode dialogue, and I don't want to fall into the habit of doing so. Therefore, I apologize for any plot errors I've made, if you have the episode memorized somehow.

...would you call that ending a cliffhanger? I'm not sure... if so, then please feel free to pelt me with tomatoes. I still won't feel guilty. My conscience is absent right now, since it's Friday and I'm feeling very happy.

One more thing: OHMAGAWD THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! This is honestly the most reception I have EVER gotten for ANY of my stories. I've had more alerts and favorites than I could count, and for me four reviews is a lot! So thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh, and if you have time, review again! Ciao!


	3. Chapter 3: Metaphor

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I do own Jo, though. Heehee, that rhymes!

Merlin flung himself against the wall as another Dorocha screeched by, staved off at the last moment by the torch he held in his shaking hands. Even simply traveling through the castle was a potentially fatal venture. Nimueh ducked another one, scowling as it flew past in annoyance. The worst part of it all was that he could see the people that the Dorocha had once been: normal, non-malevolent spirits. Each of their faces flickered slightly before becoming wraiths once again.

Speaking of which, another spirit- this one strong enough to resist the pull of the darkness and keep from manifesting- paused as they were hurrying past. Merlin reeled back in shock as he beheld the face of Ygraine Pendragon, darkened by a frown of concern.

"Nimueh?" she said, tilting her head. "What are you doing here? I thought you were set on staying away from Camelot as much as possible." She noticed that Merlin was goggling at her, and the confusion on her face cleared away. "Ah."

"Not bent over the dying, Ygraine?" asked Nimueh derisively.

"I've been keeping an eye on my husband," was Ygraine's reply. A third spirit joined them, looking both anxious and curious about the proceedings. "Oh, hello Gorlois."

"You haven't seen Vivienne, have you?"

"She's out making sure your daughter stays out of trouble."

Gorlois- Morgana's thought-to-be father, Merlin now realized- swore under his breath before vanishing around a corner. Ygraine shot them an apologetic smile.

"I'm afraid I must be on my way as well." She was about to move away, but stopped and faced him to his surprise. "Thank you, Merlin. For protecting my son all these years. This seems a poor way to repay you."

Surprised and mollified by her gratitude, Merlin shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "Er- right. Yeah. No problem."

She smiled radiantly. "He's such a nice young man, Nimueh. Try not to drive him crazy."

And on that reassuring note, she left. The sorceress started muttering under breath, but he only caught things like "sugar plums and fairies" and "too nice". Merlin ignored her and kept walking as quickly as possible, trying his best to get to the council chambers in one piece. Nimueh kept stride with him easily, almost gliding across the floor. Whether or not this was because she had always walked in that manner, or because she was a spirit, was a mystery to him.

They arrived soon enough, after dodging one more Dorocha, to find Gaius, Arthur, Agravaine, and several other knights already present. Nimueh wrinkled her nose at the sight of Agravaine.

"Well, isn't _he _a looker."

"There must be something we can do!" insisted Arthur. The sheer frustration in his voice made the warlock wince slightly. Arthur was rarely this flustered, but then the Dorocha were a serious problem that couldn't be ignored. Percival had brought in three more children who had been trapped outside by the Dorocha, and more corpses arrived every day.

"The veil would have needed a sacrifice to open it," said Gaius. "If I'm not mistaken, to close it will require another."

Arthur went very still, staring at the court physician with an unreadable expression. Nimueh chose this moment to say wryly, "April fool."

This was too much; Merlin rounded on her, about to hiss abuse, but noticed that Agravaine was eyeing him oddly. Coughing quietly, he quickly faced the prince again, trying not to look like he'd just been about to yell at the pillar next to him. Nimueh laughed.

"Very well," said Arthur at last, his face curiously blank. "I will take a group of knights and ride out at first light for the Isle of the Blessed." Merlin immediately spotted the cogs in his brain whirling, catching on to what Arthur was planning and not liking it one bit.

"But who will be the sacrifice?" asked a none-too-worried Gaius.

"It should be you," Nimueh spitefully spat.

"Me," was Arthur's calm reply. Despite Merlin's disapproval of this plan, he felt his respect for the prince rise even more at the determination he saw. "If I must give my life for my people, then that is what must be done."

"No!" Merlin recognized the voice as Ygraine's, who must have just entered the hall. In a moment she was beside him, looking at him imploringly. "He mustn't!"

"Don't worry," came Nimueh's voice, full of undisguised glee. She moved around to stand in front of him, smirking as they made eye contact. "Merlin here intends to do it himself, don't you? Looks like he'll be joining us sooner than he intended."

* * *

><p>Morgana should have expected this, but it was a shock all the same. Morgause looked as she had before her injury; her face was smooth, her eyes bright, and her hair once again lustrous.<p>

And yet... despite these improvements, she didn't think she had seen Morgause more wretched.

"I am so sorry," she whispered, not moving forward, not meeting her eyes. Morgana almost staggered at the crushing guilt that her sister seemed to feel. "I brought this upon you. I... I could not have foreseen that you would be punished in such a way- for actions done at my urging."

"Morgause," said Morgana, noticing how said woman jumped at the firmness of her voice. An uncharacteristic sadness welled up in her, recalling that she could no longer hug her as she wished to. "There is nothing to forgive. It allows me to see you again, does it not?"

"That is..." The blond woman trailed off, sighing. "This is the last time, Morgana."

"...what are you talking about?" Her sister still wouldn't look at her. "Sister?"

"They have absolved me," Morgause murmured. "The circumstances were beyond my control, they do not blame me... I am to go to Avalon."

"But..." For a few moments, Morgana found herself unable to speak. "Th-that's wonderful, sister!" Her voice broke.

"This was selfish of me," said Morgause, sounding a bit more like her old self. "I should not have come."

"No!" The desperate, shouted word made her sister freeze, brown eyes fixed on her. Morgana tried, and failed, to smile. "I'm glad you did. Truly."

Both sisters stared at one another, each unable to conceive that they would be parted- possibly forever- very soon. Morgana drank in every detail of Morgause's face, committing it to memory, praying that she would one day see it again. Morgause seemed to be doing the same thing, and came forward, falling to her knees beside her sister.

"Forgive me- not for what you think," whispered her sister. When Morgana tilted her head in question, she continued: "One day, you will understand."

She lowered herself to her sister's level, this time smiling for real.

Then she wept.

* * *

><p>Jo turned her face away from the disgusting scene, disdaining it as she did everything. Morgause was lucky- lucky that from her birth, people had made most of her choices for her. She really had believed that she was doing the right thing, and that was why 'they', the nameless ones that most of the dead were not permitted to speak of, had given her the right to move on.<p>

Vivienne was watching quietly, as was her husband. Neither of them said anything, but their hands were clasped tightly. Jo scoffed silently, wondering at their ability to simply overlook past wrongs. Neither of them were as kind or compassionate as Ygraine, yet they still stayed together. She knew very well that for her to do the same was nigh impossible.

She returned to Morgana's hovel, in anticipation of Agravaine's visit. The witch had explained how he was helping her, hoping for revenge on the death of his sister. Jo suspected that he had an alternative motive that was far more prevalent, but decided to judge that for herself.

It was nearly an hour before Morgana herself entered, the redness around her eyes an indication of her grief. A hard look was plastered onto her face, and Jo had a feeling that she would become even more vicious towards the ensuing visitor. Jo had never seen him before; he had only come to Camelot recently, and every time she had gone to the castle to visit Ygraine, he was simply not around.

The knock on the door caused both of them to whip their heads around in time to see a tall, dark haired man enter. Jo read the half-nervous, half-eager look on his face at once and snorted quietly.

"My lady."

"What news?" Morgana demanded.

"Everything is proceeding as you expected. Arthur intends to sacrifice himself to repair the veil. Camelot is in an uproar."

"How terrible." Both smirked. Jo gagged loudly. "What of the poor people?"

"Devastated."

"Hm." Morgana began pacing, which almost caused Jo to laugh out loud, wondering if the witch knew that she looked exactly like Arthur when she did so. "Very well. You may go."

"My lady," he said again, bowing slightly. His face turned in her direction as he left, so Jo was able to catch the disappointed look on his face. The moment the door closed behind him, she immediately let Morgana know of her opinion of him.

"'My lady'," she mimicked. "That man's... what? Twice your age? He's practically in love with you. This is not going to end well."

"Is he?" replied Morgana distractedly, stoking the fire and throwing in some ingredients for a stew. "I hadn't noticed."

Jo gawked. "It's blindingly obvious! Poor Agravaine, felled by the misfortune of unrequited love..." She shuddered. "Mind you, the way you two were smirking at each other for a moment, it was almost as if you did 'know something' that others didn't, if you catch my drift."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "Must you be so frank?"

"I'm dead," said Jo shortly. "I can do whatever the bloody hell I want. You have strange taste in men, by the way. First off, I'm pretty sure that you and Arthur had something going on for awhile, despite him being your _brother_. And now you've got a sort-of uncle fancying you. Gross. Please tell me you've had other, more sensible romances."

"What, like you?" asked Morgana derisively. "I don't remember there being someone particularly special in _your_ life."

"I'm asexual, Morgana," said Jo, making sure her tone was patronizing. "I don't get romantic feelings. If it makes you feel any better, I used to like girls."

To her surprise, Morgana didn't really react to that statement. "This wouldn't happen to have stopped only after you died, would it?"

"Don't worry," said Jo, her voice turning flat. "It stopped long before that. I only ever felt that way for one person."

"Were you expecting me to be surprised?" Morgana shot back, folding her arms. "There are rumors circulating around Arthur and his manservant, you know."

"Of course I know. They're entirely untrue, too. I hope that reassures you."

"Why would it?"

"I seem to recall you letting Merlin into your room for reasons other than your sleeping draft several times."

This time Morgana's reaction was more entertaining. She stubbed her toe on her furniture, yelping and cursing and glaring at Jo all the while. "That was nothing! He... he was just helping me. With my magic. Before he poisoned me, of course."

"And I suppose that's why you felt so betrayed when he did," said Jo sarcastically. "People betray their friends, Morgana. You did to Guinevere, and did _she_ plot for ages on end to get revenge? No. So we can only infer that you thought of gangly little Merlin a different way- and that you thought he felt the same."

Jo smiled and seated herself by the fire. "Apparently not, though."

* * *

><p>He took in a deep gasp of air as the sun finally rose, releasing him from the awful state of the Dorocha. Will doubled over, forcing the tears from his eyes, relieved to at last be free.<p>

He headed down a corridor, praying that he hadn't been responsible for any lives taken that night. Camelot seemed as busy as ever in daylight, however, so he assumed that no serious damage had been done. Turning past one of the spare bedrooms, he thought he heard voices inside, and paused to listen.

"Destiny won't like this."

"Really? You're warning me about that? And here I thought you were all for it."

Will started; that was Merlin's voice, for sure, but the female with him was unrecognizable. He frowned slightly, crouching over and peering through the keyhole. Yep, there was his friend, pacing around the room in frustration while a dark haired woman looked on with a somewhat amused look on her face. Will almost rolled his eyes; why did his friend get all the good looking ones?

"If this is what it takes to stop Morgana, then I'll do it," said Merlin firmly.

"And who will be here to stop her when she comes up with another evil plan to destroy Camelot?" demanded Nimueh. When Merlin didn't answer, she continued. "Destiny isn't so easily altered, as you very well know. It'll find some way to counteract this, and you may not like it. By the way, we have an eavesdropper."

Will suddenly wished that he was a Dorocha again, as the door flew open revealing his still alive best friend, whose jaw dropped at the sight of him. Will himself gawked back, surprised that Merlin could even see him.

"Will!" he exclaimed, not looking as surprised as he expected. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be back in Ealdor, or... something..."

"You can _see _me?" choked Will.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I can. Something about having so much power or something weird like that. I guess I've gotten used to it. I met the old queen yesterday, and Morgana's father, so it's getting hard to be shocked..."

"I'm taking credit for that," said the woman behind him. She sauntered forward, looking at Will curiously, which caused him to gulp and take a step back. "Him not being shocked, I mean. Are you going to introduce us?"

"Will, Nimueh. Nimueh, Will," said Merlin quickly. "Er... best friend since childhood, meet second most evil sorceress ever."

"Evil... sorceress?" said Will, looking back and forth between them, noting the grimace on Merlin's face and the gleeful look on Nimueh's. "You know what, I'm not even going to ask. As to how I got here, well..." he scowled. "It's hard to know where you're going when you're a Dorocha."

"Oooh. Bad luck," said Nimueh cheerfully.

"I can't help it!" exclaimed Will at the suspicious look on Merlin's face. "It just... happens. It's not something I can control or anything."

"Seems we have a weakling on our hands," commented the sorceress lightly. "They can't resist the transformation at nightfall."

Merlin's face darkened at her words, almost making Will groan. He knew that look only too well.

"It's not going to happen," the warlock said firmly. "Not on my watch. I'll find a way to stop it."

"Don't bother Merlin," said Will quietly. "Closing the gate's the only way."

"Lucky for you, Will," said Nimueh, saying his name somewhat derisively, "It'll be closed soon. You'll have... maybe one more night of this?"

"Ahh, no!" exclaimed Merlin, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Arthur's expecting me to be ready to go! I completely forgot."

He sprinted out of the room. Nimueh laughed quietly, sending chills down Will's spine, and followed. Will himself stayed, realizing that if he went with, he would only hinder Merlin at best when nightfall came. He sat down on the cold bed, placing his face in his hands, wishing that the tearing of the veil had never happened.

He only had one night left, if Arthur and Merlin succeeded. But he wasn't certain that one night wouldn't break him.

* * *

><p><em>"Is this really what you wanted, Morgana?"<em>

Morgana screamed.

* * *

><p>"You should turn back, Merlin," Lancelot told him quietly, the quiet concern on his face not deterring the warlock in the slightest. "Your death will not help us."<p>

"Your death will not help us, Merlin," Nimueh echoed. She shot Lancelot a dirty look. "It'll help some of us, honor boy, stop discouraging him!"

"What's wrong?" Lancelot asked, sounding resigned. Merlin turned to his friend in confusion, almost falling off his horse as it turn a sudden turn to avoid a tree. They were traveling through the forest, finally setting out for the Isle of the Blessed. He felt guilty; their journey would at least take two days, not the one that he had originally assumed, so Will was going to have to suffer as a Dorocha for one more day. He wished he could simply call Kilgarrah and get a ride to the isle; the increasing gloom of the trees was reminding him that night would fall soon, and with it, Will would be forced to become a monster once again.

"Merlin?"

"Ah, nothing," he responded quickly.

"I know you intend to take Arthur's place," said Lancelot in a low voice. "Is that-"

"No!" exclaimed Merlin quickly; Gwaine looked behind them, but quickly faced front again, opting for once not to comment. "No," he said, lowering his voice. "It's just..." he trailed off, wincing and wondering if he was about to make a big mistake. "Lancelot, if I tell you this, please don't think I'm crazy."

"You're my friend, Merlin," Lancelot said firmly. "I have faith in you."

"Right. I guess... what's bothering me is that I can see the dead."

"So can we all," answered Lancelot answered, confused.

"No- not just at night. I see them as they normally are, all the time. In fact, one of them is currently trying to get me to laugh by pretending to be a rabbit behind your back."

"It's supposed to be a pony!" Nimueh yelled at him.

Lancelot looked nonplussed. "You... aren't by any chance joking, are you?" he asked warily.

"I wish," groaned Merlin. "Do you know how many headaches she's given me?"

"She?"

This was now the second time he had explained his stalker to someone. Merlin had decided on calling her a stalker, since every other term he thought of made him sound like a willing participant- which he wasn't!

"Nimueh. She's a sorceress who has tried several times to kill Arthur and Uther. She died on the Isle of the Blessed."

His tone wary, Lancelot asked, "Did you kill her?"

Swallowing, Merlin nodded. It wasn't so much that she was dead, but that when he thought of himself, from when it happened... he had been someone different. Some dark person that didn't hesitate to use his powers- powers that practically made him a god- for his own ends. Had he been right to disregard her life so easily? Certainly, he used her life to revive Gaius, but what if it was someone who wasn't so guilty the next time? Would he hesitate- or would he not even think about it? In the background, said sorceress was shouting, "Yes, he killed me! With lightning!"

"I believe you," said Lancelot carefully. "You aren't the type to just fabricate something that big- though others might argue against that statement."

Merlin half-smiled at him. "Thanks, Lancelot."

* * *

><p>They found an old castle where they could stay the night; they just barely managed to gather enough wood to light a fire before the screams began. Merlin fidgeted with his neckerchief while they waited, glancing every so often at the other faces, illuminating by the flames. He guessed that ghosts didn't need any sleep, as Nimueh hadn't slept for several days now. She too sat in front of the fire, ragged dress barely enough to cover her thighs. He was determined to ignore her for once; whenever he did talk to her, Lancelot glanced nervously towards where he thought she must be, as though he was expecting her to attack.<p>

Merlin appreciated his concern, despite knowing that Nimueh could not harm him- not directly, at least. He nudged the fire with his foot, causing it to spark slightly. A sudden feeling came over him- as though something was burning him, from the inside out. It took all of his energy to keep from gasping out loud, but the pain he felt must have shown on his face, because Lancelot twitched and frowned.

He opened his mouth to reassure him, but suddenly found himself pulled into a version- a terrible one, of another place. He was staring down at Morgana, and recognized the feeling of age within himself; he must have been disguised as Dragoon the Great again. Yet she was reaching out to him, clearly injured or dying, and gasping:

"Help me, Emrys," she whispered. He started, wondering how she knew he was called that. "Please..."

He didn't know why, but he asked her, "Is this really what you wanted, Morgana?"

"Merlin!"

And then he was back at the camp, noticing the worried look on Lancelot's face. Gwaine was looking concerned as well, sitting up from where he'd been lounging against a rock.

"You alright, mate? Nightmare?"

Merlin just nodded, realizing that he was cured of the burning feeling; technically it wasn't a lie, though he suspected that it was more than a nightmare. Judging by Lancelot's expression, he believed the same, and Nimueh was staring at him curiously from where she sat.

"This isn't going to be enough to last us," called Elyan. "We need more firewood."

Surprisingly, Arthur volunteered at once. "I'll go."

Alarmed, Merlin sprang up. "I'll come with you."

"Merlin," hissed Lancelot in warning, but Merlin shot him a look that brooked no argument. Resigned, Lancelot leaned back. Silent for once, Nimueh rose to her feet, clearly intending to trail the pair. The prince and the warlock made their way into the ruins, picking up stray sticks and other bits they could use as fuel. Several Dorocha flew at them, but Arthur fended them off easily enough, while Merlin basically cowered behind him.

"Why'd you even come, if you were going to just shake like a leaf?" drawled Arthur lazily.

"Well, I don't expect you know how to collect firewood," retorted Merlin, keeping his voice steady.

"Ha ha."

This time the Dorocha took them by surprise, swooping in at them and causing Arthur to drop the torch he was holding. The flame sputtered, attempting to stay alive for a moment, before dying out.

The two looked at each other, their own horror mirrored on the face of the other, before they ran for it, blindly hurrying through a door and slamming it closed. Arthur grabbed Merlin and crouched against the wall, keeping Merlin beside him. They focused on the door, holding their breath, waiting for one of the creatures to break through.

"They always say the darkest hour is before the dawn," commented Arthur, his voice bordering on hysteria.

"Nice to know," said Merlin, keeping his tone light. "Good encouragement."

"We'll get out of this," growled Arthur. "You're not going to die."

"Arthur, Camelot needs you."

"What good am I if I can't show that I'm willing to lay down my life for my people?"

Merlin sighed, exasperated. "I'm just a servant!"

"Yes, and you're probably the worst servant I've ever had. You're clumsy, idiotic, can't polish my armor right, can't fight to save your life, can't clean my room without tripping, and-"

"Nice to see your opinions haven't changed."

"- you're..." here Arthur seemed to choke on his own words. "Probably the greatest friend I've ever had."

Merlin blinked, but couldn't stop the wide smile that split his face at these words. It wouldn't go away, not even when Arthur added, "Even if you're still a fool."

"I'm proud to be your friend."

He noticed the smallest of smiles flicker on Arthur's face, but it was gone in a flash. The prince solemnly held out a hand, which Merlin shook firmly. Both of them stiffened as the next scream rang out, indicating that the Dorocha had found them. Merlin was almost paralyzed by the same fear he'd been gripped with before, but managed to push past it just as the wounded spirit rushed at them. Arthur made to stand, but he shoved him aside, throwing himself in the way of the creature.

Nothing could have prepared him for the arctic chill that seemed to rip straight through his core. He barely felt his feet lift off the floor, or his back slam into the wall. He didn't hear Arthur's scream, or Nimueh's loud laugh.

His eyes weren't closed, but he could see nothing.

* * *

><p>I'm trying my best to write the MerlinArthur dynamic, but it's proving to be more difficult than I expected. Oh well; best not to dwell on it too much.

Reason for the title: Metaphor is a comparison made without using the words like or as. I remember that 'The Darkest Hour' was supposed to be falling on the fear of the dark, so I thought of the Dorocha as a metaphor to that fear.

Reason for Jo's sexuality: Yes, she was a lesbian once. Her one crush never found out, and she has never been in love since. She will never have a love interest for the duration of the story. She IS NOT crushing on Morgana; as I said, she no longer gets romantic feelings. So if you aren't a fan of femslash, don't worry; this story won't contain it. If you readers demand a romance for her, then I'll see what I can do, but I'm probably going to keep her single. As for why, I just thought it fit her character.

Aaaand we've finished The Darkest Hour- Part 1! Onto part 2 next. We'll see some more of Ygraine, Gorlois, and Vivienne, plus you know that Lancelot will soon be joining the spirit entourage (waah!). Unfortunately, there will be no more Morgause; I had her be able to move on (seriously, I don't know how Avalon exactly works, but I'm improvising. Again. You may shoot me if you wish). Okay, maybe I'll have her show up somehow sometime waaaay later in the story, but it won't be for awhile.

Also, there might be an out-of-canon meeting between our two favorite characters...

Review!


	4. Chapter 4: Proverb

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. However, I do own Jo. If I owned Merlin, Morgana wouldn't have summoned Lancelot from the dead, she and Merlin would have made out by now, and Nimueh wouldn't have died after the first season. Oh, and Merlin and Morgana would've had more scenes together in season four. Seriously, we go from them having eyesex in almost every episode in season three to them only having it twice in season four. Nuff said. WE NEED MORE ALCOVE SCENES!

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><p>"You are not dead. If you were dead, you'd be screaming in frustration." Jo paused, heaving. "So get the hell up, you bitch!"<p>

She aimed a kick at Morgana's limp form, now on the floor dangerously close to the fireplace. She could only hope that none of the sparks landed on her; then she'd really be dead. Her kick was unsuccessful; it went straight through, doing nothing to rouse the black haired woman from her comatose state. It had been a shock when, while Morgana was pacing and pondering her nightmare, she suddenly collapsed, her eyes still wide open. Jo was beginning to freak out despite herself.

"The hell is going on?" she groaned. Pale sunlight began streaming in through the windows, and Morgana feebly stirred. Jo immediately looked for a way to pretend that she hadn't just been concerned for Morgana's life, and occupied herself by staring out the window, coughing inconspicuously. She sneaked a glance behind her, noticing the witch blinking blearily. She didn't seem to be able to move, and sweat covered her face.

"Can't..." she croaked faintly. She was shivering, Jo noticed, but it wasn't as though she could do anything to help. "Tired..."

"Don't you dare go to sleep," snarled Jo, her previous condescension forgotten as she crouched in front of her. "Stay awake, you failed witch. You're nothing but a sissy, letting a little something like this get you down. If you die, I will never leave you alone; I will mock you wherever you go, and I'll say that you're like Uther. In fact, you are like Uther! Just as blockheaded, stubborn, blind, ignorant, ugly-"

"Ugly?" Morgana glared at her. "You'll pay for that..."

"Fine. Just don't go to sleep."

"Bitch."

"Weakling."

"Whore."

Jo snorted and turned around, making sure that Morgana couldn't see the relief on her face.

* * *

><p>Lancelot knew it would happen.<p>

Merlin was limp in Percival's arms. When they had tested him for a pulse earlier, they found one, beating very faintly but steadily. Arthur had ordered them back to the horses, looking sick to his stomach. The frost had melted off of the warlock's face and his eyes had slid closed overtime, but he didn't stir. Lancelot felt as though this was somehow his fault- as though he had been the one who killed Merlin. He should have tried harder to keep him from going to collect firewood.

"We're going to take him back to Camelot," announced Arthur. "He needs Gaius."

"Sire," interjected Leon, his face grim. "We cannot abandon the quest. If the veil isn't sealed, who knows how many others will share Merlin's fate?"

"We cannot let him die!" protested Arthur.

Lancelot saw his chance; he knew that Merlin probably trusted him the most out of all of them (except perhaps for Arthur), and that he would be more capable of protecting the warlock alone. "I will take him, sire."

Arthur seemed to accept this without question, nodding gratefully in his direction; Merlin was hoisted up on his own horse, while Lancelot mounted his. He found himself wondering if Nimueh was still there with them, and if she was gloating or not. The thought made him angry; Merlin shouldn't have had to put up with the dead, as he already had enough trouble with the living.

* * *

><p>Merlin didn't know where he was, or what was going on. He was cold- that much he knew. It was penetrating his insides, causing an unpleasant chill that clung to his bones. There was an almost roaring sound in his ears, as though someone was speaking, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. He reached out for the speaker, his hand numb.<p>

_"...why, why, I don't understand, why is this happening... someone, anyone, help-"_

_"Who are you?" _he tried to call. It came out garbled, like he was gagged around the mouth, but it was somewhat intelligible. Whoever it was didn't really respond at first, but he could sense their fear. It was plagued with an air of familiarity, mixed with blackness.

_"...I don't know..."_

Those three words almost broke his heart at the sadness in them.

_"...existence... blank... can they do that? Help..."_

_"I want to help you." _He had to make them understand that he was doing everything he possibly could, to no avail. Whoever they were, they were unreachable to him. He was nearly paralyzed by cold as it was.

_"Please..."_

A louder, stronger voice interjected, yelling abuse at something. The connection was severed almost instantly, shattering like glass. It had always been fragile to begin with, he now realized.

A warmth began spreading through him; bit by bit, the freezing aura was driven out of his body. Now three other voices were clearer to him now: Lancelot's, speaking quietly to what he instinctively knew to be a Vilia (though how, he didn't know) and Nimueh's, who was protesting his return to consciousness.

"Not fair! He was supposed to die; no one survives the touch of the Dorocha!"

The Vilia whispered in his mind, a comforting presence.

_"Sleep now, Emrys. We will watch over you."_

* * *

><p>"What?"<p>

"She's recovering more quickly than I expected, but she was almost dead for a moment there. I don't understand why it happened; the Dorocha usually stay away from her."

Vivienne bit her lip, her white-knuckled grip on her bracelet tightening even further. Jo's face was emotionless before her, but she could tell that the young woman was concerned.

"You were powerful in life, weren't you?" she asked the blond woman. True, she herself had been a seeress, but not a very potent one. Vivienne's power had been limited at best, and in the end the things she had Seen cost her her health. Her daughter- her last living one, anyway- didn't know that, and she had no intention of ever telling her. It wasn't something that she should be worrying about, despite everything she had done.

Jo snorted. "Me? Powerful? I think lucky is the word you're looking for. Although I wouldn't really call it luck."

"Can't you do something?" pleaded Vivienne.

"I'm not some kind of goddess that you can come begging to, Vivienne," spat Jo, glaring at her. Vivienne only half understood why the girl was so very bitter, but that little detail seemed tiny in comparison to Morgana's peril. "I can't just order the Gatekeeper to tell me what's wrong. I can't interfere with the world of the living and get her some real help. The only thing I can do is hope that the man who's lusting after your daughter visits to make a report soon."

Vivienne wasn't about to give up that easily. "You do have a sort of power," she insisted. "A kind of presence. The Cailleach will respect you."

Jo was already walking away, her mind turning to finding Ygraine. "Believe me, Vivienne. The last thing I want is the attention of the Gatekeeper." She smirked at her. "Go cry on your husband's shoulder like a good wife, why don't you?"

The dark haired woman ignored the icy stab that those words sent to her heart and turned in the other direction, intent on getting as far away from Jo as possible. Anger lanced through her, and she clenched her fists, wondering defiantly why the world had to be so cruel to her family. The emotion that immediately followed was despondence; she had brought half of that cruelty on herself. By giving into a moment of weakness...

_No, _she told herself. _Morgana is not a weakness. She's my daughter, for God's sake!_

Resolve filled her as she walked, half in a trance, through the halls of the castle. Whatever it took, she would find out what was wrong with her daughter- as well as a way to correct it.

* * *

><p>"I never liked fish," commented Nimueh.<p>

"Yeah, well no one asked you..." muttered Merlin.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," said Lancelot, shaking his head slightly in bemusement. "I do believe you, but these one-sided conversations are a bit unnerving."

The warlock stabbed another fish with a bit more force than was necessary. "If only it were one-sided."

Nimueh made as if to ruffle his hair, but only succeeding in making him feel like someone had poured water over his head (the effect was a bit too reminiscent of his encounter with the Dorocha for his liking) and making him shudder. She smirked at him.

"If you didn't have me around, then you'd really be talking to myself."

"Yes," replied Merlin, sensing a chance to strike back. "I could definitely see you doing that."

Her response was to stick her tongue out at him. He raised an eyebrow in response, before moving away from the stream and setting down their breakfast. Lancelot had already gotten a small fire going, and soon the fish were sizzling over it, skinned and cleaned by the two in record time. Merlin was impatient to get back to Arthur; Lancelot? Not so much.

"You should be going back to Camelot," insisted the knight. "You need rest."

Merlin looked him straight in the eye. "I'm not going to let Arthur die." Lancelot opened his mouth to argue, but Merlin cut him off. "You can't convince me, Lancelot. I am going, whether you like it or not."

"Then I'm coming with you, of course," he replied, looking resigned. "I suppose I should have known that you were more stubborn than a mule."

Merlin grinned. "Come on, Lancelot. You know me."

"Yeah, Lancelot," mimicked Nimueh. She stopped suddenly, frowning. "Wait- Lance-a-lot? There's an innuendo if I ever heard one."

Not expecting that, Merlin choked on his face, spinning to face her. "How did you get _that _out of his name?"

"He's good looking, isn't he?"

"What does that have to do with..." Merlin groaned, pressing his fingers to his temples again. "You know what, I don't even want to know."

* * *

><p>Morgana glanced up when Jo promptly walked in through her door, barely sparing her a glance before idly inspecting some of her magical objects. "Good, you're alive."<p>

The witch scoffed. "Nice to know you care."

Jo shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. Her blond hair partially shadowed her face as she looked over what appeared to be a rat's skull, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Morgana noticed that she was looking paler than usual, and wondered how that could even be possible, considering that she was a spirit.

"Feeling normal, then?"

"Well enough," answered Morgana shortly. There was something that was bothering her, however. "I'm not entirely certain what happened. Everything just suddenly felt so cold- cold from the inside, not from without. I was trapped in some kind of... sleeping state. There was... someone else there- I called out for help, they said that they wanted to, but obviously they couldn't. They were in pain as well." She looked over at Jo, who still hadn't looked her in the eye.

"Do you know what happened?"

"No." The response was short, curt. Morgana immediately sensed that the girl was in a bad mood.

"What is it? What's happened?"

Jo threw her a glare.

"Just everyone expecting _me _to have an answer. Contrary to what seems to be popular belief, I don't know everything! Ygraine thought I would know how to save Arthur- she said that I had to talk to "a friend of Nimueh's"- whatever the hell that means- and then Vi-" she broke off suddenly.

Morgana was immediately suspicious. "Whose name were you about to say?"

"Violet. Friend of mine."

It was a quickly constructed lie, albeit a clever one, but Morgana saw through it at once. "You don't have friends- you said so yourself," she reminded Jo. "Were you about to say Vivienne? My mother?"

Jo's brown eyes were staring straight at her, as frustratingly blank as ever.

"She's at Camelot?"

"She's worried about you," admitted Jo.

"And I suppose there's something wrong with that, according to you?"

Jo cursed and turned away from her, now looking out the window and still resolutely refusing to look at the witch. Softly, venomously, she hissed, "I think we both know that you don't deserve to have anyone worried about you."

"Is that what you're telling yourself?" retorted Morgana. "You were worried. I know you were. 'Don't go to sleep, Morgana, or I'll kill you,' or something like that."

"This is not up for discussion," Jo said through gritted teeth. "Fact: you are evil. Fact: you're irrational. Fact: that you live in a hovel was your own doing, not your boyfriend's."

"He's _not _my-"

"Really? I don't recall mentioning any names."

_"What _is wrong with you?"

"I just don't understand," answered Jo coldly. "I don't understand you. I don't understand anyone. How can Gorlois forgive Vivienne? How can Ygraine just not hate anyone? How can _you_- you, who had a family that loved you, despite what you thought of them; you, who had a foster father (Gorlois, not Uther) that loved you more than anything; you, whose mother never once gave up on you- be like- like-"

She broke off after this, clamping her mouth tightly shut and holding Morgana's gaze. Morgana was genuinely surprised- rarely had Jo ever reacted so badly to a simple argument. The silence seemed to ring through the hut, and an understanding passed between them.

They would not speak of this again.

The knock on the door diffused the tension for good, and out of the corner of her eye Morgana saw Jo relax as she let Agravaine in. The witch regarded him in a new light, remembering Jo's opinion of him, and noticed the half-eager, half-fearful look in his eye. It took all of her self-control not to snort in his face.

"My lady," he said, and despite his obvious anxiety, Morgana gave him her best "Get on with it!" look.

"I had lowered the gates to prevent people from the lower town from taking refuge," he explained. "However, Guinevere offered an alternative plan and humiliated me in front of Arthur in the process."

Feeling an old, familiar anger stir in her at the mention of Gwen, Morgana stiffened. This fury she could use. This was nothing like the feelings of confusion and helpless rage she felt at Jo's stinging words just before.

"She's just a servant," Agravaine continued, frowning upon seeing the look on her face. "I can easily dispose of her- send her away-"

"Servant!" spat Morgana. In the corner, she thought she heard Jo mutter something similar to, "Here we go..." "I have had dreams of the future, and in it that so-called _servant _sits upon my throne. No, she needs to be dealt with at once."

Once the plan was lined out, Agravaine bowed his head slightly and made his exit. Morgana made a face of disgust, waiting for at least a minute until she was certain he was out of earshot before speaking to Jo.

"You were right about him."

"Of course I was," replied the blond woman breezily. "So, assassination, then? Sounds like fun."

"I thought you disapproved of me being evil. Why not just leave and save yourself the pain of watching my misdeeds?"

"I could... but then there wouldn't be anyone around to keep your ego downsized. You really are related to Arthur, aren't you? Perhaps I should get some tips from your boyfriend."

Morgana's magic lashed out at that, smashing a vase near Jo's head. Jo only laughed.

* * *

><p>Vivienne swallowed and tried not to be sick. Shadow travel was a way to move through the spirit world faster than walking, but it was a somewhat nauseating experience (nausea being something that spirits could feel, for some reason). The towers and parapets of the Isle of the Blessed rose before her- an ominous sight if ever there was one. The day was beginning to darken, and she walked across the water easily to her destination, taking in the sight of what had once been a prosperous home for the followers of the Old Religion.<p>

To think that Morgana had violated the laws of nature in one of the world's most sacred places... and at the encouragement of her other daughter, too.

The sight of the torn veil, and the pure anguish that she could feel through it made her shudder in anticipation. Something- not the Dorocha- was feeling pain from it. Could it be that the veil itself was alive?

"Not exactly, my child," came the quiet voice of the Gatekeeper. "But you are close."

Vivienne blinked. The Cailleach had most certainly not been standing there a moment ago.

"I know why you are here," she continued. Vivienne wondered at the Gatekeeper's ability to make her feel like a little girl again. "Speak your question."

Steeling herself, Vivienne breathed in deeply. "What have you done to my daughter?"

"It is not what I have done," replied the Cailleach. "The veil itself is exacting payment for her crime."

"She can see the dead now, I know," said Vivienne, impatiently wringing her hands. "But why did she collapse? Out of nowhere..."

"Ah," breathed the Gatekeeper. "Now you see, that is a bit of a more delicate matter."

* * *

><p>The house where they stayed that night would have been quaint and homely, had two iced-over corpses not been the sight that greeted Merlin and Lancelot when they entered it. The knight seemed determined that Merlin not have to do anything 'strenuous', and insisted on gathering most of the firewood. Merlin himself lit the fire, hoping that it would be enough to last the two of them through the night, at least. Lancelot had already fallen asleep, but (as had been the regular occurrence since the veil was torn) the warlock was not so lucky.<p>

"You never answered my question," said Nimueh suddenly.

Merlin frowned, glancing at Lancelot and speaking in a low voice so as not to wake him. "What question?"

"Does it bother you? Being so helpless in the face of such a grave danger."

He shifted slightly, not looking at her. "Yeah. It does." He paused. "I imagine you must've felt the same way."

He lifted his head to find Nimueh staring at him. "What are you talking about?"

"When Uther began the Great Purge," he said, "It bothered you. Watching your people die every day. 'Helpless in the face of such grave danger'. Is that why you've been pestering me so much about it? Because you wanted to make sure someone else knew your pain?"

"I can think of no one more deserving than yourself."

They lapsed into silence after that, with Merlin incapable of thinking of anything else to say. Gradually, his exhaustion from his ordeal overcame the looming fear of the Dorocha, and he let his eyelids drift closed...

...only to snap open what seemed to be a moment later to find both fires out and Lancelot up and alert.

"We've got to get out of here," he hissed, panic in his eyes. The scream came from the back of the hut, and the two (or three, if Nimueh counted) raced out the door, fleeing as quickly as they could. Merlin's mind was racing; for some reason, he was no longer as terrified as before. Thinking quickly, he shouted out the only thing he could come up with:

_"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anakes!"_

The half-shout, half-roar rang through the trees, almost drowning out the scream of their pursuit. Lancelot glanced at him questioningly, but Merlin just kept running, sensing Kilgharrah's intention of landing in the clearing ahead. The spirit behind them was inches from the knight when a burst of fire dispersed it entirely, followed by a second that saved Merlin. The Great Dragon snarled defiantly, and a feeling of safety came over Merlin, making him grin at the sight of his kin.

"Greetings, young warlock," said Kilgharrah, his golden eyes flicking over to Lancelot before focusing on Merlin again. "Who is your friend?"

Merlin glanced over at the knight, who raised his eyebrows at him with a "this is impressive" look and turning to bow his head to Kilgharrah.

"Lancelot."

"Ah yes," mused the dragon, giving one of his half-smiles. "Sir Lancelot, bravest of them all."

Seeing that Lancelot was sufficiently mollified by this statement, Merlin turned back to the dragon. "I can see the dead, Kilgharrah."

If the dragon had eyebrows, Merlin had no doubt that they would have shot upward by then. "That is a surprise. Something I most certainly did not foresee. Has one of the spirits been haunting you?"

"Yes..."

"What are _you _going to do about it?" sneered Nimueh.

Kilgharrah surprised them both by looking straight at her. She actually let out a squeak, something that made Merlin's mouth quirk in amusement.

"I would advise you not to aggravate the young warlock. If his power rendered him capable of seeing the dead when the veil was torn, then he may even have the ability to affect you in some way."

Nimueh stared back defiantly, but said nothing. Merlin was slightly impressed; it was very difficult to hold Kilgharrah's gaze for long.

"Also..." Merlin trailed off, noticing Kilgharrah's curious look. "When I was almost killed by the Dorocha, I could hear a voice calling out for help."

"Hmm." The dragon- was he frowning? It was always hard to tell- narrowed his eyes. "I'm afraid I don't know what to make of this, young warlock."

Disappointed, Merlin nodded, accepting his word. "Arthur intends to sacrifice himself."

"Then you know what must be done to stop him. But you must beware, Merlin." Merlin felt his stomach twist and a cold tingle run up his spine as the dragon repeated Nimueh's earlier words. "For Destiny may have other ideas."

* * *

><p>"What's going to happen to her?"<p>

Vivienne looked at Gorlois' concerned face and sighed.

"I don't know. I really don't."

* * *

><p>Aaaaaaand we're done. For now. Next chapter will wrap up the Darkest Hour, and then we'll move on to 'The Wicked Day'. Oooh, I have some plans for that... heh. Geez, it's taking me longer than I thought it would to catch up to present time. Though to be honest, it's actually kind of stimulating for me.<p>

Reason for the title: 'Proverb'. I think that "The darkest hour is just before the dawn" is a proverb of some kind. I know it's a saying, at least. Ack! My grammar is skewed, just like the rest of my mentality. Seriously, when I do my math homework, I somehow get the problems right, but it only makes sense to me.

I feel bad for forgetting to thank all my lovely reviewers so far! **Tagrea, hillevi, Fiwen9430, Izzu, Jzaii, SunnySmile13, MightyMerlin, zombieleopard, **and **Mike3207. **You guys are all amazing, and your feedback made my day. Also, to all my other readers, and all the people who alerted/favorited this story; I'm glad that you like it!

And what's going on with Merlin? Why did he hear a voice? Why did Morgana collapse? I must say that I'm not too subtle, really. You could probably guess. If you can't, GOOD! I don't want you to know just yet. If you're curious about Jo's history... too bad! You'll have to wait awhile for that. At least until after I catch up to the present time.

Review! Reviews are like tea. They make me feel all warm and happy inside.


	5. Chapter 5: Protagonist

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. On the other hand, Jo sprung from my half-insane brain, and mine alone. If I did own Merlin... um... I think I listed all my grievances last chapter. Let's rant a bit! For anyone who knows the extended biography of Luke Skywalker, does anyone think he's similar to Merlin? He's a powerful member of an order that's been hunted for years. He has a cocky friend. His first real love was a misunderstood, gentle person (Callista/Freya), but his second (hopefully, in Merlin's case) was a fiery woman (Mara Jade/Morgana). He's also uncommonly wise for his age and didn't know his father for a long time (though at least Balinor wasn't evil). They both had old man mentors. I can't think of anything else. Oh yeah, and I'm comparing Nimueh to Lumiya (Shira Brie).

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><p>Ygraine watched the conversation between Agravaine and Guinevere, wishing that her brother didn't have to go so far for revenge. It wasn't right that he would make himself an enemy of her son just because he believed that Uther had gotten her killed. She could almost see the deceit in Agravaine's eyes, the way his smile seemed frosted over when he addressed the young maiden. She knew that something wasn't right; he was in league with Morgana, and Jo had told her that Morgana harbored a strange, unrelenting hatred for Gwen.<p>

With a nervous smile, Guinevere stood and thanked him for the offer of an escort to walk her home. At the same time, Jo ghosted through the door, stared at Gwen for a few seconds, then sending Ygraine an unreadable look before backing out of the room again. Frowning to herself, the former queen followed.

Jo easily moved through the twisting passages of the castle, eventually coming out of a side door where Morgana herself stood. Ygraine held her breath, listening while the two spoke quietly with one another.

Vivienne had told her about Morgana's ability but had refrained from explaining just what it really meant. Her heart sank when she realized that Jo held no adversity towards the witch's plans. She understood that the only reason she was warning Ygraine was for Ygraine's sake, not so that they could work together to save Gwen.

"Is she on her way home?"

"Yes. He's coming to inform you now."

With a snort, Morgana muttered a spell under her breath, unlocking the door and slipping inside. Ygraine froze when the two caught sight of her- Jo not looking surprised at all, Morgana only going still a moment before continuing on her way.

"Morgana-" began the former queen, hoping to instill some sense into the girl and ignoring the it'll-never-work look that Jo sent her.

"Save your words, Queen Ygraine," said Morgana, breezing past her and visibly repressing the shudder that the spirit's presence inflicted upon her. Ygraine followed, not quite ready to give up just yet, while Jo fell into step beside the black haired girl. A guard appeared up ahead and drew in a breath to shout an alarm, but quickly- almost too quickly for Ygraine to see- Morgana's green eyes burned amber, and he flew into the wall, slumping into an unconscious state.

"She is a good woman," persisted Ygraine, hoping that the witch's conscience wasn't nonexistent. "She has been your friend all of these years. She does not deserve to die- not like this!"

"Ygraine," barked Jo, and she couldn't help but flinch. "It's useless. In about a minute or two, you'll hear her arguments- 'She betrayed me! She helped my murderer of a brother!'- even though technically she betrayed Gwen first. And to think, Morgana couldn't have cared less about the throne two years ago."

"I don't need this from you, too," muttered Morgana to Jo, just as Agravaine dashed into their line of sight. Ygraine put her head in her hands.

"She's on her way as we speak," he informed her in a low voice.

"Have I ever mentioned," commented Jo to Ygraine, "that your brother's a creep?"

"Good," hissed Morgana, turning her glare on him. "Now don't you have somewhere else to be? Did you want to draw the attention of the entire castle by coming here?"

"I had to inform you, my lady-"

"It was unnecessary," she snapped, striding away quickly. Ygraine noted the terrified look on Agravaine's face, sighed, and followed after the would-be assassin. The three women emerged out on the battlements, looking down over the town to see the maid making her way down the street, guarded on either side by knights. Jo's face was blank as she regarded her, giving no insight as to her opinion of Guinevere. Ygraine, on the other hand, made one last attempt to beseech Morgana.

"She means so much to him-"

_"Hleap on baec!"_

Gwen gave a little yelp as she was thrown backwards, the impact being enough to knock her and both knights out. Morgana smiled viciously at the sight, victory dancing in her green eyes as she turned away to leave. Jo left with her, making no comment.

Ygraine, on the other hand, hurried down to the place where Guinevere lay, crouching over her and checking to make sure that the young woman was still breathing. She was.

Sighing with relief, she sat, hoping that her presence would do something to keep the Dorocha at bay. Her heart twisted at the realization that she could not do the same for the knights- but then, there was no guarantee that this would work for Gwen either. Ygraine heard the Dorocha, drew her knees to her chest, and waited.

* * *

><p>"Merlin!" exclaimed Arthur, grinning from ear to ear. The warlock returned the grin with not a little bit of relief, as he'd been unsure how his return to the group would be received. The prince seemed happy to have him back and properly functioning, however, so it was safe to assume that he wasn't unwelcome. Lancelot rejoined the other knights, all of whom were both relieved and worried to have the manservant back on the team. Relieved, because he was alive. Worried, because they assumed he was still the most vulnerable of them all.<p>

Unfortunately, in a way, he was.

His happiness diminished when, a moment later, Arthur's smile faded. At once, he could see what was going through the prince's mind: I'm glad you're okay, but I only have a day to spend with you now. They were getting close to the isle, and the sun would be setting soon. The journey of hard riding had taken he and Lancelot most of the day to complete.

"Arthur," he urged quietly. "You don't have to sacrifice yourself. You should let me-"

"Absolutely not," interrupted Arthur, scowling. "The veil would probably refuse to take you as a sacrifice. It'd be disgusted by your stupidity."

It was a terrible attempt at a joke, but Merlin forced a short laugh anyway, if only for Arthur's benefit.

After a bit more time on their horses, they had arrived at the boat that would take them to the isle. A decidedly somber mood had enveloped the group; even Nimueh was frowning, though Merlin knew that it was because she was sour from being at the place where she'd died.

The boatman took them across (Merlin had to wonder where he'd come from; he hadn't been there before, he was certain). Everyone was silent during the crossing, though Nimueh was walking across the water. Somehow, she was able to make it look casual. Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a shrieking cry rang through the ruin- one that definitely did not belong to a Dorocha. Another followed it, and another, and another...

"Wyvern!" shouted Arthur.

* * *

><p>Dead druids were not generally people that Jo associated herself with, but there was someone that she had to find. There were multitudes of them spending their dying days in the forests in and around the Valley of the Kings. She felt their unblinking eyes on her as she passed them, their silent stares only slighlty unnerving. They were not adverse to her presence, but they didn't really welcome it either. That was fine with her; she felt the same way about them.<p>

They never gave their names, not to outsiders- and Jo was definitely an outsider. They knew it from her stride, her speech, the way she carried herself. She had refrained from telling Morgana where they were because she was aware that they would refuse to help her if she sought them out. One of these druids, however, owed her a favor, and it was for that favor that she had come.

The elderly man stood quickly upon catching sight of her, his gaze wary. "The cursed one approaches."

"Points for stating the obvious," she responded lazily. "Have you been among the living druids lately?"

"Just this morning."

"Were any of them aware of your presence? Could any of them see you?"

"None."

She examined him closely. Most people, when encountering the druids, gained an inexplicable sense of trust around them. Jo was not one of those people.

"You're lying. Who saw you?"

"You have no power-"

"You _owe_ me, Laz."

"Just a boy. Young. I don't think he's spoken to anyone about it yet, but he knows what he can do."

"Tell me about him."

"He was a queer boy. Rarely spoke. Had an air of authority about him that was strange for someone so young. His name was-"

"I can guess what his name was," Jo cut him off, feeling her gut twist slightly. "I won't be calling on you again, and I highly doubt you or your people will be seeing me for a very long time."

She turned to leave, but his voice momentarily stopped her.

"The hatred still feeds off you, Joanna." She tightened her muscles as he spoke her full name, anger bubbling up to the surface. "Even now, it threatens to consume your very being. You hold it at bay with your world-weary cynicism, but one day it will come back to strike you where it hurts most."

"You are far too perceptive for my liking," she said loudly, a distorted smile appearing on her face. "All of your kind is. They are, it seems, the only ones who know that a part of Joanna will always be a part of me. I and everyone else like to think that she died a long time ago. You see, this is why I have no intention of ever seeing you again. I would say farewell, but you're dead- and that's not exactly the definition of 'well', is it?"

* * *

><p>Merlin threw himself out of the way just as the first dragon-like being divebombed them. Gwaine aimed a slash at its wing, managing to tear through the thin membrane and making the creature howl with agony. Two more attacked in unison, one catching Lancelot on the shoulder with its claw. Knowing that even as they were fighting, people across Albion were suffering yet another night of terror spurred Merlin to some kind of action.<p>

_"S'enthend' apokhorein nun epitello-o-o!"_

It was said as quietly as possible, but it had the intended effect; the Wyvern halted, the three that attacked them dipping their heads slightly and fleeing the scene. The knights continued onward, only to be harassed by the beasts again. Arthur, oblivious to the fact that Merlin could simply send them away, acted quickly.

"Elyan, Percival, Leon!" he shouted, already hurrying to the veil. "Hold them off!"

The three knights did as ordered while Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot ran through another archway, emerging into a large courtyard that Merlin didn't remember from his last visit to the Isle of the Blessed. He nearly gasped at the pain that he felt in the place, emanating from the tear in space in the middle of the courtyard. A familiar cloaked figure stood in front of it, an expectant look on her face as she regarded the four newcomers.

"Who are you?" asked Arthur sharply.

The woman raised her chin, staring at him with cold gray eyes. "I am the Cailleach; the Gatekeeper to the Underworld."

"Then close the rift."

"That is not within my power," she told him. Despite the fact that she wasn't looking at him, Merlin felt as though she were really addressing him instead of Arthur. "A sacrifice is required for the rift to be sealed."

"Why can't you just close it?" asked Gwaine crossly, hefting his sword.

"You will regret threatening me."

Merlin winced as Gwaine chose to ignore these words and attacked her anyway, only to be thrown back into oblivion. Arthur, now ever warier than before, took a step back. The Cailleach's expression wasn't one of anger or surprise; it barely changed at all. He heard Lancelot shift behind him slightly- probably moving to a more suitable fighting stance.

"Then it is my life that will be taken," announced Arthur firmly. Merlin couldn't help but admire the sheer resolution in his friend's voice.

The Cailleach smiled.

And suddenly he was aware of the multitude of people that were watching. Spirits- members of the Old Religion, who had lived on the isle long ago. Each of them had a face representing sorrow, though for what Merlin didn't know. Was it for the pain of those meant to be beyond the veil? Was it for the Once and Future King, who would now die for something that went against all the laws of nature? Only fate knew.

And fate was not yet finished with Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin's eyes glowed and Arthur was flung backward like a rag doll, his body landing in a heap on the stone. Lancelot moved up beside the warlock as the Gatekeeper's hawk-like gaze became fixed upon him.

"Emrys," she said, not sounding the least bit surprised. Cautiously he moved forward, ending up on one side of the stone platform while she regarded him from the other. "So, you will give up your life in his place."

"It's my job to protect him."

"I know," she answered quietly, eyes shining eerily. "Alas, it is not your fate to die here today."

Confused, Merlin looked at the veil again. Lancelot looked back, met his gaze, and smiled.

"NO!" he shouted, but there was no stopping his friend from stepping into the void. There was a rushing noise- almost like a sigh of relief, as the wound in the air sealed itself shut, taking the knight's soul with it. The Gatekeeper vanished, leaving behind only the multitudes of deceased souls. More joined them as the veil closed- those who hadn't previously been strong enough to keep from transforming into Dorocha.

"No..." he choked, too shocked to say anything else.

"I told you," Nimueh reminded him, "that destiny wouldn't like it."

But then the rushing noise vanished, leaving only the murmurs of the dead around him. And there, in the center of it all, stood Lancelot.

* * *

><p>Morgana noticed Jo suck in a sharp breath through her nose and frowned.<p>

"What is it?"

"The veil has been closed. No more Dorocha. We're free."

"And yet I can still see you?"

"I guess you have an extensive punishment. You're stuck with me."

"Wonderful. Note the sarcasm."

"Noted."

* * *

><p>More than ever- even more so than when he'd first arrived at Camelot, Merlin felt out of place.<p>

Everyone was sorrowful, watching Lancelot's cloak and sword burn on the pyre, mourning for their dead friend. And it did pain him to see Gwen look so upset. But it was difficult to be sad when said deceased person was right next to him.

"This is... strange," commented Lancelot at last, looking both perplexed and embarrassed. "And maddening. I wish I could tell them that I'm right here with them. That I'm not going to abandon them, even if there isn't much else I can do besides."

Merlin couldn't say anything in response, knowing that doing so would only cause eyebrows to be raised in his direction. Will more or less spoke for him.

"I think they know it. They know you're too stubborn to just rest in peace."

There hadn't really been a formal meeting between the three- Nimueh, Will, and Lancelot. Yet despite their differing personalities, they didn't seem to mind each other very much. All three were adamant about staying with Merlin, and all were forced to cooperate, since none of them intended to leave his side anytime soon.

Nimueh was uncannily happy, actually.

"He's very good looking," she'd said on the way back from the Isle of Blessed, shooting Lancelot an almost hungry look. Needless to say, the knight had been rather unnerved.

Merlin found it both surreal and comforting to have the three of them with him. Even Nimueh's presence was somewhat (only somewhat, though) welcome.

A sob from Gwen interrupted his musings. Arthur noticed as well, walking over to her and squeezing her hand.

"He didn't give up his life for Camelot," she confessed. Arthur said nothing, silently prompting her to continue. Lancelot apologized to her quietly under his breath.

"I asked him to look after you," she breathed out shakily. "He was true to his word."

Merlin saw through her speech instantly. Gwen was blaming herself for Lancelot's death. She truly believed that he had sacrificed his life because she asked him to protect Arthur. The warlock had been blaming himself all this time, but realized that Lancelot had done it for both of them. He caught said knight's eye, and saw him nod and smile slightly.

Arthur dropped a kiss on her forehead before moving away, still not speaking. Gwen stayed behind to watch the cloak burn. Merlin took this as his cue to move away as well, his contingent following behind him.

The smoke curled up into the sky, into the dying light of day.

* * *

><p>Jo yawned.<p>

Morgana let out a scream of frustration, shoving aside the contents on a table to the floor and causing Agravaine to jump.

"It could have been a coincidence-"

"That was no coincidence, that was EMRYS!" she all but shrieked. She whipped around, glaring at him venomously. "The Cailleach told me that he was to be my destiny and my doom."

Morgana began pacing around the room quickly, her steps pounding into the ground. Jo stared idly out the window into the forest, which was once again darkened by night. For once, however, it was not pervaded by agonized screaming. For once, it was quiet.

"I want him found," the witch continued. "I want him dead."

"I'll find out anything I can about him, my lady."

She nodded. "See that you do."

Once the slimeball had left, Jo instantly did what she did best- question Morgana's plans.

"You're trying to stop destiny. You do know that that never works, right?"

Morgana scowled at her. "Some of my prophecies have been averted, haven't they?"

"That's not the same thing. Seers are more common than gatekeepers to the world of the dead."

"So?"

"So, I'm guessing their predictions are more accurate."

The black haired woman scoffed. "What would you know?"

Jo sighed, seeing that this was one matter that she wouldn't be able to convince Morgana on. Just like the matter of Gwen, or seizing Camelot's throne, or... anything, really.

* * *

><p>Merlin sat alone in his room- well, not alone.<p>

"And that's what happened," concluded Nimueh.

Both Lancelot and Will were gaping at him. Uncomfortable under their astounded stares, he shifted.

"You blew her up with _lightning?"_ said Will at last, before grinning. "That's bloody brilliant!"

Nimueh scowled. "You got yourself run through!"

"Well, at least I got to be a martyr. You? You were a villain. Evil. Stuff like that. I got to be a hero."

This time Merlin grinned, unable to help himself. "I seem to recall you saying, 'Dunno what I was thinking.'"

Will gaped. "You're siding with _her?"_

Voices in the other room put the conversation on hold for a moment. Merlin crouched down behind his door, listening carefully to the two people speaking on a subject that confirmed him.

"Do you know of anyone called Emrys?"

A chill ran down his spine at Agravaine's seemingly innocent question. His mind flew at once to a certain witch- was it possible that the man was in league with her? He had, at first glance, appeared to be a man devoted to helping his nephew, but Ygraine had been his sister. It was very possible that he blamed Arthur for her death.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't."

"Ah," replied Agravaine, frowning slightly. "I see. Thank you Gaius."

He exited the room under the physician's watchful gaze; Merlin quickly opened his door and hurried down the steps, already knowing that the other three were following behind him.

"You heard?" Gaius asked him.

"Every word."

"There's only one person who could have known your druid name," muttered Gaius, looking even more worried than before. "Morgana."

Wordlessly, Merlin nodded.

"You must be careful, Merlin," warned his mentor. "She can never know who you truly are."

He nodded. An idea struck him, and he swallowed his fear. "Gaius, there's something else..."

"What is it?"

It was now or never. Merlin inhaled deeply, trying to calm his shuddering heart, and told Gaius everything.

When he had finished, the physician was silent, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke.

"I believe you. I have never heard of such a thing happening before, but I suspect that since the veil was already weakened, your power allowed you to see through it. You can still see them now? Lancelot's here, with us? And... Nimueh?"

"She has no power to harm me, Gaius."

"All the same, be on your guard," said Gaius. "She is unpredictable."

_Don't I know it, _thought Merlin, sighing.

* * *

><p>Hmm. I think that was shorter than usual. Oh, well. There really wasn't much left to write. I'm not writing as many descriptions as I usually do; I'm finding it rather liberating. This is a fast-paced show, after all, and it requires fast-paced writing. I think I can afford to slow it down a bit when I get past the bit that's canon... which still won't be happening for awhile.<p>

Reason for the title: Protagonist. Because Merlin's the protagonist! And I'm running out of grammatical terms to use already.

You know what I'd like to see Series Five? Mergana. (Because they're worth it). Oh yeah, and I want Nimueh to somehow come back, of course. Not sure how I feel about Mordred at the moment. Have I talked about this before? I get the feeling that I have. You can be sure that our favorite little druid will show up in the story at some point. You're thinking: Let me guess... it's much LATER in the story, right? Damn. Yes. You're very right, reader.

Thank you to: **SunnySmile13, Illuminatus666, Fiwen9430, **and **Mike3207** for giving a greedy, undeserving young writer like me your reviews. It really warms my heart. And if you meant to review, but couldn't because Fanfiction was being a total poophead and forgot later... thank you too. Seriously, does anyone know why the site's been randomly locked to users lately?

Next time: beginning 'The Wicked Day!' Hooray! Nimueh will see Merlin's Dragoon persona. Ohohohoho, poor Merlin. That's all I can say for now of the immediate future.


	6. Chapter 6: Tragedy

Disclaimer: Do not own Merlin! That would be some random guys in Britain who have a tv channel that I watch a lot. Robin Hood, Sherlock, and now Merlin. I love these shows. Makes me proud to be a quarter British. Oh, by the way: I OWN JO! Although she doesn't like being owned...

I'm sorry! I know it's been longer than usual; I've been watching Game of Thrones worshipfully, because it's one of the most amazing shows I've ever seen. Seriously, you can't get any more awesome than Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen and Tyrion Lannister. Speaking of, I hate Aredian even more now... cause he's that asshole, Tywin Lannister. Hmm... crossover? JOKING!

* * *

><p>On a particular day in Camelot, there was a palpable feeling of high spirits in the air. Performers juggled, danced, sang, played instruments, balanced on their hands, and even held mock battles while they slowly made their way up the streets to the castle. Townspeople gathered to witness the rare spectacle, whooping and cheering to their hearts' content. The plethora of colors and sounds reached the gates in due time; one man in the front did a spectacular flip and bowed to several maids nearby, making them all giggle.<p>

"Whoa!"

Merlin grinned and clapped from where he watched at Arthur's window, feeling as though he could bounce off walls; he had had little cause to feel lighthearted these days. Not even Nimueh's near constant prophecies of impending doom could get him down from his high.

He shouted in excitement again when another performer let off a shower of sparks.

"Merlin!"

And there was the darkest cloud in the room: the birthday boy himself. Frowning (and also pouting, just a bit), Merlin craned his neck to look at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, exasperated. "It's your birthday. The whole of Camelot's celebrating!"

Arthur's only response was a grunt.

"Well we can't forget that it's the anniversary of Ygraine's death," Nimueh pointed out.

Just like that, Merlin's good mood plummeted to almost match Arthur's. He'd forgotten about that; maybe that was the reason for Arthur's sulking.

"Please," came a voice from the doorway. The subject of conversation herself stepped forward, offering him a small smile. "You're right Merlin, of course. It's a day for celebration. You and Arthur should both be enjoying yourselves; it'll make me happy to see my son smile."

Just as Merlin felt a weight lift from his shoulders, Arthur had to break the string lifting it again.

"I suppose the king won't be able to attend."

Even Ygraine's smiling face fell.

"I suppose not," murmured Merlin, thoughts racing. "But I'm sure he would want you to be happy."

Arthur sighed, turning and giving Merlin a mock glare. "Very well, you've convinced me. I'll be visiting him for a little, then I'll join the 'celebrations', as you call this bloody circus-"

"-um, sire, it is a circus-"

The prince continued as though he hadn't heard. "You, in the meantime, can clean my room, wash my clothes, and bring my father and I lunch. _Then _you can have the rest of the day off."

* * *

><p>Ygraine decided against following her son into her husband's room, choosing instead to visit the Great Hall and observe the preparations. She passed Guinevere in the corridor, smiling at the girl even though she was invisible to her. Jo hadn't visited in awhile, so she surmised that the blond woman was occupied with Morgana. She had always been an outsider- someone who usually stood back and observed, never really becoming associated with anyone. Ygraine was glad that Jo seemed to have, at last, found somewhere to belong.<p>

The upbeat mood that ran throughout Camelot was contagious; even the dead seemed excited, many gathered in the Great Hall to view the proceedings. She headed in the general direction of the entertainers just in time to see one of them snap a case of something shut while addressing another man who was at least two heads shorter than the first. Their conversation was nothing unusual; outlining plans for the performance later, speaking egotistically about their various skills... it was all things that Ygraine had seen before, though this year's festivities seemed especially exuberant.

"Your majesty," came a sharp voice from behind her.

Ygraine pivoted gracefully to face Bertha, the former head cook at Camelot. She'd died of illness years ago and had haunted the kitchens ever since, watching her replacement and his underlings like a hawk.

Ygraine smiled; she was fond of the woman, finding her sharp tone and crabby manner somewhat endearing. "Hello, Bertha. Is the cooking up to your standards?"

Bertha snorted. "Hardly. Bloody Gerald's getting the soup wrong! Too much salt, that'll make the Prince's face pucker up like a raisin."

"Well, we'll have to hope that the soup won't be served to my son." In actuality, Ygraine highly doubted that there was anything at all wrong with the soup, but she knew better than to disagree with Bertha. "Anyway, did you need me for anything?"

"An odd one's askin' for you," said Bertha, habitually rolling up her sleeves without (Ygraine suspected) realizing it. "Bloke named Aredian?"

Ygraine sighed. "If you see him, tell him I refuse to speak with him until he learns to directly speak with me. If he were truly noble, he would have approached me himself instead of sending messengers. As it is, I would rather he not converse with me at all."

"Said it had somethin' to do with the magic boy."

Ygraine's attention was caught like a fish on a hook. "Merlin?"

"That his name? Never bothered finding out. Claims he knows something about Marvin-"

"-Merlin-"

"-and the former ward. Overheard Vivienne or somethin' like that. Threatened to tell Martin-"

"-Merlin-"

"-unless you went and talked to him."

Ygraine's expectations of the day plummeted. What Aredian was doing was nothing short of blackmail; the man was desperate to speak to her for some reason, and she didn't want to burden the young warlock with what Vivienne had discovered just yet. "Very well; I suppose I'll go and find him."

"Says 'e's down in the castle archives. Finds it amusing to talk to all the dead bookworms down there, or somethin' like that."

Ygraine nodded her thanks and took leave of Bertha, following the twisting castle passages down to the library. Spirits were able to walk straight through walls if they so wished (she could even sink through the floor) but she preferred going the long way, admiring the sights of the castle she called home. Striding quickly past a snoring Geoffrey of Monmouth and smiling fondly at the sight, she made her way to the back alcoves. Indeed, there were several heated debates of numerous deceased scholars going on. Aredian was not a participant at that moment, but was instead waiting for her at the back.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing. Ygraine was not flattered.

"Next time, approach me and inform me yourself," she said, her tone losing its customary warmth.

"Forgive me, Queen Ygraine," he replied. "But I have a small favor to ask of you. It should not be very difficult to carry out; it's a task I suspect that a small child could accomplish-"

"What do you want, Aredian?"

"What I want is quite simple," he said, shrugging. "Revenge."

"You and half the other people I meet," she deadpanned. Inwardly, she thought Jo would have been proud.

He continued as though he had not heard her. "I want revenge on the Merlin boy. He and his magic were what got me killed."

"There is not much I can do about it," Ygraine told him, frowning. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's simple really," he said, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "Just inform the witch that he is Emrys."

_"No."_

"If you don't, then I will tell him what Vivienne told you a few weeks ago."

Ygraine bit her lip. She had to choose between two evils- and it was quite clear to her which was the lesser evil.

"Then tell him," she replied flippantly, straightening her spine. With a frosty look that brooked no argument, she spun on her heels and left the room.

* * *

><p>Many of the guests were watching the show, clapping wholeheartedly. The rest kept glancing quickly in shock at the normal-looking Uther Pendragon, who sat in his usual seat, looking for all the world as though nothing was wrong except for a bit of paleness. Merlin had been surprised as well when Arthur told him that his father would be attending the feast. His heart had ached for Arthur at the almost unrestrained joy on the prince's face- the hope that maybe, just maybe, Uther was finally recovering.<p>

Naturally, Merlin was plagued with mixed feelings regarding this development. A part of him was happy for Arthur- how could he not be? Arthur was his friend, and he cared about how he felt. Another part of him was disappointed that there was a chance that the tyrant might be able to rule for a few more years yet, delaying the return of magic even further. And then yet another part of him felt guilty for wishing the man dead.

Still, he couldn't begrudge Arthur's good mood; the prince looked happier than he had in days, clearly relieved and joyful that his father was once again sitting by his side. Ygraine was standing behind them, looking more radiant than ever, a beautiful smile gracing her face. Merlin knew that she had had little cause to be happy these past few weeks. How could he consider taking that away from anyone?

"Arthur looks content," commented Lancelot. "Perhaps this marks the beginning of Uther's recovery."

"That isn't very good for Merlin, is it though?" asked Will on his other side. "I mean, the man'll probably go even more paranoid over magic than before, what with Morgana betraying him and all."

Merlin waited, but the snarky comment that he had been expecting never came. Frowning, he glanced around to make sure no one was paying him much attention before turning to Lancelot. "Where's Nimueh?"

Lancelot shrugged. Will's brow scrunched up a bit. "I remember her being with us back in Arthur's chambers; she must've slipped away at some point."

Merlin, as he had had a habit of doing lately, massaged his temples. It was ironic that he was made more nervous by her absence than her presence. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by one of the entertainers. The man was white haired, and had a secretive smirk that seemed permanently stuck to his face.

"I have a challenge for you, Prince Arthur," he said clearly. "Do you accept?"

Arthur exchanged glances and grins with Uther, shrugging and standing. "Of course." His father clapped him on his shoulder.

"He's even acting normally," said Will, in awe.

"How would you know?"

Aaaand there she was. Merlin shot Nimueh a reproachful look, only to receive a sneer in return. She looked over at the performers, raising an eyebrow. "Looks fun."

They were strapping Arthur to a giant wheel, rendering him immobile before the one who had issued the challenge shoved an apple into his mouth. He then stepped back several paces, gesturing for one of his helpers to bring a case to him. Merlin's breath caught when the man pulled a well-sharpened dagger out, showing it to the audience.

The wheel began to turn.

Already he could feel his magic responding to his agitation and anxiety. It leaped against his barriers, trying to get through to stop the knife that flipped through the air, to bury itself not a hair's breadth away from the left side of Arthur's head.

As one, the audience sagged in relief, Merlin, Lancelot and Will among them. Nimueh just looked gleeful.

The second dagger landed on the right side of his head. Merlin was almost certain he saw Arthur go limp, glad to not have been impaled.

Then, before he could even have time to recover, the third was let loose. Its motion seemed to slow before him- beautiful, but deadly as it raced towards his friend. Smiles faltered, and Merlin felt his magic about to get past the boundary when-

The dagger buried itself in the apple.

Thump. A nobleman sitting nearby fainted. As the man was helped out of the hall by several servants, Arthur stumbled down from the mechanism, grinning idiotically and munching on the apple as though he hadn't just almost been stuck with a knife. Merlin couldn't help but roll his eyes as Nimueh voiced exactly what he'd been thinking.

"Typical."

* * *

><p>"Isn't that poison oak?"<p>

"It has its uses."

"What, like giving people rashes?"

"I don't imagine your father bothered to teach you much about herbs," snapped Morgana.

"No, he didn't," replied Jo, unabashed. "I had to learn the hard way. I almost died after eating a yew berry by accident."

Curious despite herself, Morgana looked up. "How come you're ali-" She broke off, aware of the mistake she'd been about to make. Jo only smirked.

"It took healing via magic, a week of being bedridden, and about three bucket fulls of vomit."

"Lovely picture," replied the witch, grimacing. She moved on to the marigold plant, gathering several handfuls and stuffing them into her sack. The forest seemed quieter than usual; reports of a possible Questing Beast sighting were rumored around the smaller towns, according to Jo. Something, she knew, was coming. Morgana just wasn't sure what- and whether it would benefit her or not.

"By the way..." began Jo, suddenly keeping her voice flat. Morgana frowned and turned to her- the girl only did that when she had something important to say. "Ygraine told me something interesting the other day. Or rather, half of something interesting."

"It's not like you to beat around the bush," said Morgana. "Spit it out already."

"The reason you fainted was because you're bonded with someone who was attacked by a Dorocha."

Morgana felt her stomach flop. "Bonded?"

"Yeah, bonded. As in, if they die, you die. If they're hurt, you feel their pain, and vice versa. If you knew the person, you could probably communicate or something. That sort of thing."

"Who?"

"She said she didn't know," replied Jo. "Ha. More weaknesses for you..." But there was no real taunt in her voice.

* * *

><p>"You're not wearing any trousers," Merlin said, struggling with all his might not to burst out laughing, though Arthur seemed too drunk to care. Nimueh had already given up, collapsed on the floor as she was, positively hooting. Lancelot was succeeding keeping a straight face, while Will was laughing almost as hard as the sorceress.<p>

"Good point," muttered Arthur, pulling them up as though it were as trivial as swinging a sword (which he, being a prince, did on a daily basis). The prince stumbled out of the room, his boots scraping on the floor as he went. Merlin filed away a reminder that he would probably have to drag Arthur back to his chambers later; maybe he could enlist Gwaine's help. On second thought, that was probably a bad idea, as Gwaine would most likely be even more drunk.

_Leon then, _he decided. Nimueh and Will were beginning to calm down at last; Lancelot was breathing deeply, clearly relieved at not having laughed insanely like the other two.

Merlin shrugged to himself. "Might as well find Gaius."

* * *

><p>Ygraine entered the room, and felt the smile slip off of her face.<p>

The entertainer was dead, the blood seeping from where the sword protruded from his gut. Her husband was bleeding as well, cradled in the arms of their son, who alternated between shouting for help and sobbing quietly. Her hands flew to her mouth as a wordless cry escaped it, and a blur of movement later found her kneeling at their sides, calling out for her son's pain. Uther himself seemed almost at peace- as though he were already dead, caused by his one day of clarity. Why? Arthur still needed him. She had waited for two decades; she could wait longer.

The door banged open and her brother rushed into the room, followed by Guinevere. Both of their faces went slack with shock at the sight that befell them. Ygraine wondered distantly what they would think if they could see her in the room; no doubt they would think the sight even stranger.

She glanced at Arthur, surprised to see that he had already wiped the wetness off of his face. His normally vibrant eyes had lost their vitality and became dull. Someone was speaking to her, she realized, as though listening from outside her soul. The voice was female and vaguely familiar- Vivienne. Then an arm was attempting to guide her out of the room, but she shook it off. No, she needed to be in the room, in case Uther's time did indeed come. She needed to be there to- to-

Why did-

What was wrong with her?

Why was it so hard?

Vivienne was in front of her, smiling sadly.

"The fool queen, they should have called you," she said gently. "Sometimes, you can be far too selfless."

The hours passed. They- meaning two knights- got the king into his bed, and Gaius ran a check on him. Merlin, Arthur and Guinevere stood to the side, watching in silence. Glancing around her, Ygraine realized that Vivienne had left some time ago- probably to find Gorlois and tell him the news. She also noticed Merlin's eyes move over to her once or twice. Nimueh had entered the room, laughed once, and then departed once again. Will left as well, uncomfortable. Lancelot stayed, his eyes not leaving the king's still form.

Eventually, Gwen left as well.

A part of Ygraine wanted to scream at Gaius to hurry up, but she refrained from doing so. Eventually, Gaius looked over at Arthur, his expression grim.

"I'm afraid his heart is bleeding, sire," the physician explained. "He has only a few days at most."

Arthur turned a strange color- almost gray. "Is there nothing that can be done for him?"

Gaius' response was a simple shake of his head. Ygraine's head snapped over to the door, where she heard a shuffling noise that no one else seemed to notice. Suspicion formed in her mind as to who it could be, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

"Could magic be used to save him?"

All eyes in the room shot over to the prince, who had uttered the words- all except for Ygraine's. Instead, her gaze flicked over to her son's manservant, who was looking like he didn't know whether to faint or to break out into song. He quickly composed his expression and met her stare, the resolve there quite clear. It looked like he was apologizing to her. She smiled sadly, and shook her head.

"In theory... yes," was Gaius' cautious reply.

"Then do it," commanded Arthur, almost glaring at him. "Find a sorcerer who will help us, I don't care how far you have to look for one. If they're willing to heal my father, I'll take them. I'll do whatever they ask."

"Are you sure that is wise, sire?"

"Yes," replied Arthur with absolute certainty.

Nothing more was to be said on the subject.

* * *

><p>When Agravaine entered the hovel, Jo wondered vaguely if he didn't have more important things to do at Camelot. How was it that no one seemed to pay any heed to his more-than-frequent trips to the forest? Perhaps they assumed that he was a troubled man, or that he was having a liaison with someone outside of court. Well, Jo was certain that <em>he <em>wished he were having a liaison with a certain witch.

"Mortally wounded?" said Morgana in a strangled voice. She looked as though she didn't know whether to be happy or confused.

"Yes," reported Agravaine. "But there is a problem."

"Isn't there always?" Jo asked tiredly. The corners of Morgana's mouth twitched.

"Arthur intends to use magic to heal his father."

The witch's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jo wasn't as shocked; she knew about Arthur risking himself to save the druid boy a couple years ago. "Well then... we must ensure that he fails."

Jo instantly saw the possibly fatal flaw in the plan. If Agravaine were to place the necklace on Uther, then Ygraine (who probably hadn't left his bedside) would instantly notice. Vivienne had told her something that would mean problems if the queen decided to put a stop to it.

So, while Agravaine was being tasked with making sure that Uther's heart finally stopped beating, Jo assigned for herself the task of keeping Ygraine out of the way.

After all, she had no great love for the man who had- by all rights- killed her.

* * *

><p>Will couldn't get the bad feeling out of the pit of his stomach.<p>

Merlin was planning on using his magic to heal the king. He'd told Arthur where to find the sorcerer earlier and was now pacing his small room, probably too excited to sleep. It was finally his chance to prove that magic wasn't necessarily a force for evil... and yet Will felt that a black cloud was hanging over his head.

Something wasn't right here.

Something was going to go wrong.

He felt he should warn Merlin. The warlock might listen to him; he was much better at doing so than Arthur Pendragon, but Will had rarely seen his friend look so happy.

So, seating himself at Gaius' work table and absently watching the old man make a poultice, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

* * *

><p>Meh... not as long as I'd like. Oh well. I'm starting to love writing Ygraine; hers is one of the few characters that hasn't been explored very well in the series, and I just can't help but like her. And I throw more hints about Jo at you- but not the full story. That'll be awhile. I'm sadistic.<p>

Reason for the title: Tragedy. Well, obvious... it still works grammar-wise because it's a play genre. Heehee!

More Ygraine next chapter, by the way. As for Aredian (coughTywinLannistercough)... well, we'll see what's up with him, and what he wants to tell Merlin. By the way- I added Bertha because she knows Jo. I'm debating about whether or not I should keep her around, or let her disappear after this chapter. What do you all think?

Again, sorry for the late update! Blame the awesomeness that is Game of Thrones. Many thanks to my incredible reviewers: **SunnySmile13, Meri Ley, Fiwen9430, La La Looney, King Sabre Tooth, **and **Mike3207**. I luvs you all!

Review, please! (Nimueh might be high on sugar next chapter if you do... oh yeah, and WILL IS GENDRY!)


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